


Still Life

by monsterleadmehome



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Blackmail, Divorce, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Minister for Magic Hermione Granger, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Canon, Post-Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, Widower Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2019-11-15 10:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 61,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18071879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterleadmehome/pseuds/monsterleadmehome
Summary: He rucked her skirts up, hands running up the length of her thighs. She mentally cursed her decision to wear stockings today, but at least she had foregone knickers, as the stockings were full coverage. Her breaths came in heavy pants as Draco’s thumb brushed over her damp center. He drew a shuddered breath.  “What—” he asked between kisses, “ —are we going to do about this?”He had meant the situation—them—but she took it more literally. “Rip them.”Hermione Granger is Minister for Magic and on the brink of divorce. When the Wizengamot suggests reinstating the office of Advisor to the Minister for Magic, it sounds like a good idea...When widower Draco Malfoy is offered a chance to work closely with the Minister, he gladly accepts.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for a post-Cursed Child fic in my head for a long time (when the first inkling of an idea came to me, I was still a Harry/Hermione shipper, but that's another story). After having seen the play twice, my love for redeemed Draco Malfoy only grew, and now I long to see both him and Hermione get the happy ending they deserve.
> 
> A few quick notes: this fic will be mostly canon-compliant with a few notable exceptions. The HP Wiki says Hermione was eventually able to retrieve her parents' memories, but for the purposes of this fic, she was not able to do so. I wanted her to be more isolated for the storyline. Also, I have completely retconned Hugo Granger-Weasley. He isn't even really in Cursed Child (but for a mention) and I really liked the idea of Hermione, Draco, Scorpius, AND Rose being all only-children. Sorry to any Hugo fans. Also, I've fiddled with the timeline a little because while _technically_ CC is set in 2020, I wanted the references to be current. So let's pretend all that happened in 2018. ;)
> 
> Lastly, while I never really liked Hermione and Ron together, I do like Ron. I have tried to treat him as fairly as possible here and the first couple chapters deal with the dissolution of their relationship (as well as setting up the tension between Hermione and Draco). While Hermione and Ron are together at the start of this fic, they do not have sex at all--so you don't need to worry about that. There's only a few past mentions of their lackluster sex life.
> 
> Now that's out of the way, enjoy! 
> 
> A million thanks to my beta, [raven_maiden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_maiden/pseuds/raven_maiden) for polishing this fic until it's shiny! She is my HP expert and the best cheerleader I could ask for. If you haven't read her Dramione fic, [Traditions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17245598), I highly recommend it!

Hermione Granger, Minister for Magic. That was what it normally said on the nameplate that Harry had gifted her when she first took office. Currently, Hermione was absentmindedly twirling her wand and enchanting the letters to spell out other things, sometimes even adding new letters as the phrases became increasingly more morose. One of the more recent ones, “Ron Weasley is a fuckwad” made her snort for a half second before she went back to twirling. They had fought… again (over something ridiculously mundane that she could barely remember now), after which Ron had gotten incredibly drunk and passed out in the flower bed outside. She didn’t levitate him back to bed like normal, but rather left him there to wake up in his own muck and question his life choices.

It had only been several months ago that he blurted out a rash and hasty proposal to renew their vows. She had called him sweet, but never agreed to it. Unsurprisingly, it went unplanned, as had happened with pretty much all of Ron’s grand ideas these days. Besides running the joke shop with George and making sure the fridge was always stocked with ale, he didn’t do a whole lot of anything. Hermione had even stopped wearing her ring to work, casually forgetting to put it back on after rubbing salve on her hands one evening. It had sat next to the sink for nearly a week now. No one had said a thing. There was a mountain of scrolls on her desk awaiting her perusal, but she couldn’t be bothered to look at any of it right now. Every time she even considered leaving her husband, a quiet voice inside would say, _Just wait until Rose is done at Hogwarts_ . It usually gave her pause enough to take a breath and power through—it was only a couple more years. Yet at the rate they were going, she didn’t know if she could face another few _weeks_ of feeling this alone. She was wearing thin.

Sometimes she longed to talk with Harry about these problems. He was her best friend, after all. But no, she had already seen the way the other ministry employees liked to gossip and it wouldn’t be the first time rumors about her and Harry’s “special relationship” had spread. Honestly, some of these people were worse than Rita Skeeter. She even considered going to a Muggle shrink—Merlin knows it was helpful in dealing with the fallout of her not being able to recover her parents’ memories. Yet, if she did either of those things, she would be admitting out loud that they were having problems. That marrying your high school sweetheart wasn’t all it was cracked up to be… that the fairy tales got it wrong.

Admittedly, it had been exciting to have the trio back together again, plus Ginny and Draco Malfoy. Nothing to inject a little pep back into one’s life than some time-travel and near death experiences. She chuckled darkly to herself. The night they returned from that whole ruckus was the first time she and Ron had sex in… well, ages. It was halfway decent, and he even made sure she came. It just wasn’t the same as when they had first fallen in love. Bickering and teasing wasn’t much to build a relationship on, and even when that faded into a loving sort of companionship, they never had much to actually _talk_ about. Not in the mentally stimulating way that she would converse with Harry, anyway. And then there was the drinking, the weight gain—it was hard to shag someone you weren’t really attracted to anymore. Not that she blamed Ron, heaven knows she wasn’t as perky or fit as she had been right after the war, either. It just was what it was.

Occasionally, Hermione wished she could use that blasted time-turner to go back and warn her younger self. To take note of the red flags. To maybe wait a few more years… but then, she wouldn’t have Rose. Her daughter was the light of her life, and worth every bit of hardship along the way. She’d do it all over again, exactly the same way, just to have Rose. Still, she might have to sit Ron down for a good talk soon. He hated talking about feelings, but it was either that or let it all bubble beneath the surface until she exploded and left him.

So lost in thought was she that her ears barely registered the sounds of footsteps wandering into her office. She often left the door ajar, so people took it upon themselves to just meander in when they needed something.

“‘Ron Weasley is a nitwit?’ Trouble in paradise, Granger?”

Hermione flicked her wand quickly restoring her name plate back to its normal lettering and looked up to see Draco Malfoy, of all people, standing in front of her desk. At least she had moved on from ‘fuckwad.’

“Malfoy, _so_ nice to see you again.” Her tone was mocking, yet she motioned for him to sit. “Can I help you with something?”

“I was actually on my way to have lunch with Potter when I saw you rearranging these letters. You look a bit peaked. Everything okay?” His voice was deep and soothing, and for the life of her, Hermione couldn’t figure out why he’d even ask.

“What do you care?” she retorted. His face flashed with surprise before his mask settled back into place. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little on edge.”

“You don’t say…” he tapped his long fingers on the edge of her desk. “I actually wanted to talk to you, too.” His long platinum hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she tried not to think about how much he resembled Lucius like this.

“Since when did you and Harry start having lunch?”

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and finally sat down in the chair opposite her desk. “Ah, this is only about the third or fourth time. Since Albus and Scorpius are so close, we figured it was time to try to mend some old wounds.”

Hermione smiled a little at this. “Well, I think I can get behind that, then. Now, you said you wanted to talk with me as well?”

“Yes, actually also about Scorpius. I was really just hoping for some advice. He seems quite enamored with your Rose, and I’m sure she has expressed her disinterest to you—”

“She hasn’t mentioned it, actually.”

“Oh, right. Well, I really was just wondering how I could possibly dissuade him from pursuing this. I didn’t want it to become an issue.”

She nearly snorted. Since when was a crush an issue? This new side of Draco Malfoy would take some getting used to. “I hardly think it’s an issue, Malfoy. He’ll probably get over it in time, and who knows? Maybe Rose will wake up one day and decide that Scorpius is the one for her—could you imagine, you and me— _f_ _amily_?” Her laughter echoed throughout the office.

Draco laughed, too, albeit more nervously. “Imagine…” he muttered. “Well, I won’t take up any more of your time, then. I suppose Potter will be wondering where I am.” He rose and sauntered to the door, before turning around. “Oh and Granger?”

“Hmm?”

“Do take a look in the mirror… your hair is a complete and utter disaster.”

“That’s more like it,” she called after his retreating form.

 

* * *

 

Draco tried to calm his breathing as he walked to the lift that would bring him to level two, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He had no reason to be anywhere near the Minister’s office, but he just couldn’t help himself. Ever since last year, when they had stopped that Delphi girl from bringing Voldemort back, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Hermione Granger. He knew he shouldn’t, for a lot of reasons—she was the Minister for Magic and still married to that red headed dunce, not to mention the fact that she probably still hated him for bullying her back at Hogwarts. Part of him chalked it up to having something to occupy his mind to move on from grieving the death of his wife. Then again, it had been over two years now. He and Scorpius had paid a fitting tribute to Astoria’s memory over summer holiday. They had brought white dahlias to her grave and held each other close as they thought about better times.

He felt less lonely in his big bed, relishing the feel of spreading out again like he had when he was younger. He had gained most of the weight back that he lost during the worst of his depression, and he was even dabbling in creating potions again. So he couldn’t call his fixation with the minister a coping mechanism. If he were being completely honest, it wasn’t even a new feeling—more like an awakening of something he long thought dead and forgotten. He had found himself fascinated with Granger since his earliest days at Hogwarts. But of course, no son of Lucius Malfoy would ever be allowed to befriend, let alone court, a _mudblood_ girl. Unthinkable. So he had channeled his curiosity into cruelty, and later his passion into hatred. It had never really worked, only serving to make himself more miserable and lonely. He didn’t have the stomach for villainy, and his heart longed for the connections that his actions made impossible.

Thank Merlin for Astoria. She had been his guiding light out of the darkness of his youth and together they built a better life for themselves. One that left behind the old elitist ways and adopted a more accepting and loving worldview. Scorpius was all the evidence he needed to prove that he was a better man now. His son’s immense capacity for love astounded him on a daily basis. Draco questioned sometimes how he even got sorted into Slytherin. Though it was clear he didn’t lack ambition—he certainly let nothing stand in his way when it came to dragging his father to the Muggle cinema each time one of those blasted Marvel movies came out. A crooked smile found its way onto his face as he approached Harry’s office. The door opened for him before he had a chance to knock.

“I was beginning to think I’d been stood up,” Harry mused as he pushed his glasses up on his nose.

The office was in disarray as per usual, and Draco stuck his chin in the air as he waltzed in. He still had standards, after all. “What, and miss a chance to torment you? Not a chance, Potter.” His words lacked their old bite though, and he met Harry’s smirk with one of his own.

“You’re not usually late, Malfoy. Everything alright?”

“Yes, I had just stopped by the minister’s office before coming here.”

Harry looked surprised. “What’d you need to see Hermione for?”

“Nothing serious. Just wondered if Rose had complained about Scorpius bothering her at all. Poor boy is absolutely smitten.”

A chuckle from Harry surprised Draco. “Seems like you Malfoys have a soft spot for the Granger women.”

Draco felt his mouth fall agape. “I—what are you—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Harry shuffled some things around before grabbing his wand and coat. “Well, at the time I just thought you were a right git, but I noticed how you were always worse to Hermione, always tracking her movements and watching her closely... It didn’t even occur to me until _much_ later that it was probably because you had a massive crush on her.”

“Well, I—”

Harry’s sharp eyes bored through him. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Draco said nothing, tugging on his robes distractedly.

“That’s what I thought. Now, let’s go; I’m starved.”

He stared dumbfounded as Harry walked out of the room before finally shaking it off and following.

 

* * *

 

Ron was a very loud snorer. Hermione used to cast a silencing charm on him before bed, but he would always complain saying what if there was an emergency in the middle of the night and he needed to get her attention. Over time, she had gotten used to it, but lately it had started to keep her up again. She really didn’t know what had changed. All she could do was trudge to Rose’s bedroom to fall asleep. This had become something of a habit in the time since her daughter had returned to Hogwarts for her fifth year. She wasn’t sure what she’d do during breaks—probably make use of the couch. She lay there for the longest time, trying to fall asleep, wondering what Rose was up to at that very moment. It still seemed not that long ago that she was at Hogwarts with Harry and Ron, getting into all kinds of mischief at this hour.

When she finally found herself awake in the morning, she blearily padded into the kitchen and searched the cupboard for the strong coffee she kept on hand for days like this. Sometimes, a cup of tea just wouldn’t cut it. Ron entered the kitchen soon after, yawning and stretching. “Bed was cold,” he mumbled.

“Snoring was loud,” she retorted, angrily pouring the steaming brew into a mug with otters on it. Her parents had gifted it to her upon learning what her patronus was, and it had went with her to every living space since.

“My snoring didn’t used to bother you.” He sat across the table from her and tried to reach for her hand, which she snatched away. “What’s wrong, Hermione?”

“It did when we first got married; then I got used it. Not that you would notice, but I’ve been slipping out of bed a lot recently.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I figured it was just stress and it’d settle down.”

“That’s the problem, Ronald. You never want to talk about anything.”

He must have known it was serious when she broke out his full name. “I thought… well, I thought we were better again.”

“And what, exactly, would give you that impression?” She couldn’t help her voice from raising in pitch as her aggravation simmered to the surface.

He looked sheepish but continued, “Well after that business with the time turners and being back together as a gang again—it just felt like old times, didn’t it? We even had a proper shagging after.”

This got her even more riled up. “You can’t expect a victory shag to fix all our problems.”

“No, I suppose not…” he trailed off, at a loss for what to say. Always at a loss.

She huffed and folded her arms. “Shared trauma isn’t the best thing to build a relationship on, and it’s not a great way to revitalize a marriage, either.”

“Is this about the vow renewals? Because we can still do that, if you want—”

“I don’t want to renew our vows, you bloody idiot! I barely know if I want to be married to you anymore!” She could tell by the hurt in his eyes that she had officially snapped. It had been cooped up inside her too long, and she had gone straight for the jugular.

She barely had a moment to feel awful before he exploded back at her, flinging her prolonged ministry hours and constant state of distraction in her face, among other things. They fought so long and hard that she was extremely late to work, her eyes rimmed with red by the time she arrived. It was just her luck to run straight into Harry. He got in on level 5, took one look at her and asked, “What’s wrong, Hermione?”

“It’s nothing, Harry. Truly.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“It will be fine.”

He shrugged when he got off on level 2, but turned around as the lift was closing. “You’ll let me know if you need anything?”

“Of course.” She nodded her head soberly, knowing she couldn’t tell him everything. It was _killing_ her—he was her best friend. But so was Ron, and she couldn’t put him between them. She _wouldn’t_ do it.

It had always been the three of them against the world, and then they added in Ginny—and of course things changed with marriage and children, but she and Harry were close at work, and he and Ron were close outside of work. It made sense to compartmentalize that way, and she had gotten really close to Ginny over the years. It was only lately that Hermione was beginning to realize their tight little circle wasn’t enough anymore. She felt as if she were drowning. There had always been problems, but somehow they had all come to a head and she was at her breaking point.

And it had come at the worst possible time. She had a meeting with the Muggle Prime Minister first thing this morning, which she had been dreading for weeks. No matter how magnanimous Hermione tried to be, the woman just did not like her. She could have sworn the PM was secretly a pureblood witch, who hated her based on her blood status. At least, that’s what the scrutiny made her feel like. She quickly cast a cooling charm on the skin beneath her eyes, and dabbed some concealer over the dark circles. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

She steeled herself as she prepared to Floo in to 10 Downing Street.

 

* * *

 

_Insufferable, intolerant, beady-eyed_ —

“Minister?”

Hermione was jogged out of her thoughts by Seamus Finnigan, now a member of the Wizengamot. She had nearly collided with him in the Atrium. “Oh hi, Seamus. Sorry, didn’t see you there.”

“Looks like you were preoccupied.”

_Yes, with treasonous thoughts against the UK_. “Busy day, that’s all.”

“Well, don’t work yourself too hard.”

“Thanks,” she huffed as she zoomed past to the lift.

The meeting with the Prime Minister had gone terribly. It seemed the woman was affronted not only by Hermione’s appearance, but every word out of her mouth. Worse, she had brought up Kingsley Shacklebolt, which hadn’t happened in months. She knew the Muggles had preferred him—he was eloquent and charismatic, presenting a strong front for the ministry. Hermione knew that in comparison, she often came across as too self-conscious, maybe a tad frazzled. She was seriously considering the PM’s suggestion of bringing in a liaison to meet with her. It would be one less thing off her plate. That could wait, though; in the meantime, she had so much else to do. The tears began to fall afresh.

After wiping her eyes, she attempted to sort through the pile of scrolls on her desk. Hermione had read the same paragraph regarding proposed routes for troll migration several times when her secretary buzzed. “Minister?”

“Yes, Sally?”

“Draco Malfoy wants to know if you have any free appointments this afternoon?”

_What the hell did Malfoy want_ now _?_ She briefly glanced at her agenda. She did have a block of free time, but was hoping to use it for signing off on a few new pieces of legislation she’d been putting off. “Did he say what it was about?”

“No, ma’am. Only that it was urgent, I’m afraid.”

“Okay. Give him the three o’clock spot then.”

“Great. I will let him know.”

It was 3 pm precisely when he walked through her door, looking like he stepped off the cover of _Wizard’s Quarterly_ , in his impeccable black robe and neat platinum hair tied back and away from his face. He was always so annoyingly put together. Hermione was sure her eyes were still puffy, and she hadn’t even bothered with makeup today as it would’ve just smeared the next time she cried. Why did she care what she looked like, anyway? It was only Malfoy.

“Granger,” he greeted in his normal antagonistic tone.

“You really should address me as ‘Minister’ when you’re here for an appointment, _Malfoy_.”

“Ooh, the claws are out early today, I see.” He strolled in and took a lap around her office, perusing her plethora of books before sitting down in the chair opposite her desk. Noting her unamused look, he cleared his throat. “Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice… _Minister_.”

“This had better be important. I have a lot of work to do.”

Draco took in her disheveled state. Normally, he would tease her endlessly about it. He loved seeing the pink in her cheeks deepen and making her flustered. He had always liked eliciting such passionate emotions—especially in Hermione Granger—but the puffiness around her eyes made it evident she had been crying earlier. He remembered Astoria’s face looking similarly quite often near the end, and his heart broke a little inside. He’d take it easy on her. “Right. Well, I don’t know if you’ve been informed yet but our children have been hit with detention for the next week.”

“What?! Why?” She perked right up and began gathering her bushy hair into a low bun that she secured with a hair tie she had just conjured. “Also, how do you know before I do?”

“Malfoy relative portrait in the Headmistress’ office.” He smirked.

“How convenient.”

“Indeed.” He fiddled with the arms on the chair, looking uneasy. It made Hermione uneasy, too. “I’m afraid it may be somewhat my fault. I had given Scorpius some girl advice, and I think he took it rather to heart. He tried to kiss Rose and she got him with a bat-bogey hex.”

Hermione leaned forward, placing her palms on her desk. “She _what_?” Then, because life hadn’t thrown enough at her lately, she started to laugh.

Draco seemed surprised and let out a brief chuckle himself. “I thought you’d be angrier.”

“You know, with everything else in my life lately, this seems like the least of my worries. Rose should know better than to hex people, but maybe some time in detention will help her get her head straight.” She shook her head and then looked back up at him. His expression was a bit wistful. “I am curious—what did you say to Scorpius that made him take such a risk?”

“Oh,” he paused, slight color tainting his pale cheeks for a moment. “I merely suggested that sometimes animosity can be an outward manifestation of inward attraction.” He left out the part where he told his son to learn from his mistakes and take risks if the girl was worth it.

Hermione blanched. Surely he wasn’t suggesting… no, she must be imagining things. “And sometimes animosity is born out of boys being truly annoying, even downright cruel.”

Draco’s mouth formed a thin line. “Yes, well. I’ll be sure to talk with him so it doesn’t happen again. I’m sure you and Weasley will make sure Rose doesn’t continue to go about hexing people.”

At the mention of her husband, Hermione’s eyes started to water again. “I, um, doubt I’ll get Ron involved with this.”

“Granger,” it was almost a whisper the way he said it, face softening.

She sniffled and conjured a handkerchief to wipe at the moisture underneath her eyes. “I’m sorry… it’s just... we’re having problems. And that’s on top of everything I’m dealing with here.”

He swallowed, clearly uncomfortable. Yet, something inside made him push past it. “Such as?”

Hermione huffed, somewhere between exasperation and amusement. “You don’t want to hear about my issues.” She certainly didn’t want to unload on Draco Malfoy, of all people. But then again, hadn’t he proven he was different now? He hadn’t run out the door yet.

Stormy grey eyes met hers, which were surely rimmed with red. “Try me.”

“Well, the Muggle Prime Minister hates me. After our earlier tête-à-tête, she has basically refused any future meetings with me, asking that I send someone else from my office. I have a mountain of legislation to approve, and I’m pretty sure someone in the DMLE is gunning for my job.” She stopped to blow her nose. “Then I go home to a husband who doesn’t appreciate me, and Rose seems to be starting her rebellious phase… and I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

Actually, Draco didn’t have better things to do. It was one of the reasons he was here. Sure, he wanted to bring up the issue with her, but it was an excuse. Anything to get away from the manor and how he felt absolutely stifled there. Now that his father had passed, Narcissa stayed in her wing most of the time until she got lonely enough to come out and entreat him to talk to her. “Be that as it may, it seemed like you had a lot to get off your chest.” His eyes slipped down to the area mentioned momentarily. Though her shapeless dress hid a lot of her features, he had always had an affinity for her curves.

She flushed again and her head slumped onto the desk. “I’m so embarrassed.”

Reaching forward without thinking, he enclosed his long fingers around her outstretched hand. “Don’t be.” Her shoulders jerked at his sudden touch, but she did not lift her head.

Immediately regretting his rash decision, he squeezed her ever so gently and left without another word. As Draco raced to the lift, his hand flexed with nervous energy and his heart thumped out a reckless rhythm. It wasn’t until the door closed that he relaxed, collapsing against the wall as he found his breath. He may be a former Death Eater but it was she who was the dangerous one.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update a day early this week! What do you guys think, Sunday or Monday for updates?
> 
> Thanks to my unflappable beta, [raven_maiden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_maiden/pseuds/raven_maiden). You da best!

When Hermione lifted her head off the desk, he was gone. Her brain tried to piece the information together. Draco Malfoy had held her hand in a comforting manner. Besides that time in third year when she had struck him, their skin had never made contact. He was warmer than she had expected, his long fingers strong as they grasped her smaller ones. It didn’t make sense for him to empathize with her, did it? Maybe he felt obligated to comfort her. Still, the tingling sensation still in her hand took her mind off of other things for a bit. She straightened herself and got back to work.

Her aide, Sally Perkins, came in shortly after to bring her afternoon tea. She closed her eyes and savored the hot liquid, letting it carry away some of her stress. The young witch had been such a godsend. She quickly became used to Hermione’s moods, her likes, and dislikes—on a day like today, she knew to bring the Earl Grey, flavored with a hint of vanilla and a dash of milk. 

A knock sounded on her open door. “Enjoying your tea?”

Hermione’s eyes flew open. “Harry, come in.”

“I’m sorry; I know you said it was nothing earlier, but I wanted to come check on you anyway. I know you’ve been dealing with a lot lately, and it totally slipped my mind that you were meeting with the Muggle minister today.”

“Yeah, it did  _ not _ go well.”

“I figured. Listen, if you’re needing help with anything—”

“That’s just it, though—isn’t it, Harry? I’m not  _ supposed  _ to need help with anything. I’m Hermione fucking Granger!” She let out a ragged breath.

“We all need help from time to time.”

“I know. I’m just not sure how to arrange it at the moment.” She was sure Harry knew something was up beyond just her work situation, but he wasn’t letting on. She hated having to tread lightly around him when he was one of the few people who could really handle her at her worst. A small smile tugged at her lips. “Distract me for a moment, will you? Anything exciting going on in the DMLE?”

Harry had been made head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement shortly after Hermione had become Minister for Magic. She had taken such joy in approving the promotion, knowing it had already been in the works before she took office. “At the moment? Mostly quiet. Though I did hear a vicious rumor that Dean Thomas’s wife left him for a Veela.”

She chuckled. “Well, that is  _ something _ .” She paused, taking a sip of tea. “I’ve got one for you, too. Scorpius Malfoy tried to kiss Rose, so she hexed him. They both have detention for the next week.”

“What?!” Harry exclaimed before bursting out into laughter himself. “Come to think of it, Malfoy did mention the crush, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Funny how things work out, isn’t it? Your former arch nemesis’ child is now your son’s best friend.”

“I don’t know if I’d call him my arch nemesis, but it is poetic almost.” He scratched the scruff on his face and his eyes widened as they landed on the mountain of paperwork on Hermione’s desk. “Is this all stuff you’re trying to do this week?”

She nodded, frowning. “I’m woefully behind.”

“Geez, Hermione. It’s like you need another you to get all this done.”

“That would be ideal, actually.” She offered him a wan smile.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” He left with the look of a man who was trying to sort out a problem. It left Hermione a bit unnerved.

 

* * *

 

Draco stirred the contents of his cauldron slowly, the mixture bubbling a little too rapidly for his liking. He reached for a sprig of knotgrass and plopped it in, but no sooner had he done so than the whole thing blew up in his face. He might not have eyebrows anymore if it hadn’t been for his quick reflexes. Just then, a sharp  _ pop _ resounded through his lab as a house elf showed up.

“Master Malfoy, sir. Mr. Zabini is being here to see you.”

“Thank you, Tilly. Tell him I’ll be with him shortly.” He frowned to himself, puzzled. What could Blaise possibly want? Draco hadn’t heard from him in months, and now he was showing up at the manor unannounced? He wiped his hands clean and made sure he didn’t have anything on his clothes before making his way upstairs.

Once he made his way up to the front of the house, he found Blaise waiting in the sitting room. “Draco, so good to see you. How is everything?”

“Things are fine, Blaise. Am I to take it this is a personal visit?” He crossed his arms while standing in the entrance to the room. Draco wasn’t overly fond of others’ scheming these days, and he generally tried to keep his nose out of trouble. When they were younger, he and Blaise had shared a penchant for mischief. But Blaise’s hadn’t seemed to fade with age.

“Well, I had wanted to check on you and your mother, see how you were holding up. But I’ve also come to talk to you about a potential job.”

“Oh?” Draco’s interest was piqued. He sauntered into the room and leaned on the edge of an emerald wingback chair.

“Yes, I don’t know if you recall, but I recently was sworn in as a member on the Wizengamot and I’ve heard about a new position that may be opening soon at the ministry, that I think you might be well-suited for.”

“I’m listening,” he said smoothly. But before Blaise could even start to get into specifics, his mind was already reeling at the possible proximity to a certain doe-eyed minister. His meeting with her the other day had only served to stoke the flames of his old crush, igniting them into something new and decidedly more sexual, if his dreams last night were to serve as any indication. Not that he had any intention of doing anything untoward, but his curiosity was ignited and he was hardly one to ignore his instincts.

Blaise had finished explaining the position and was looking at him expectantly. But Draco hadn’t heard much besides “working closely with the minister.” The other wizard huffed in annoyance. “Well, don’t just stare at me. How about it, Draco?”

It was suspect that he would recommend him for such a high profile role after everything, Draco thought, but he could iron out the details later. If Zabini thought he was a pawn to be used for his own gain, he would be in for a surprise. As far as he was concerned, he already knew everything he needed to know about it. After all, what did he have to lose? He stood to shake Blaise’s hand. “Count me in.”

 

* * *

 

Hermione plopped her bag on the dining room table to find a hastily scrawled note from Ron. “Going out with Harry. Don’t wait up.” Well, that was fine with her. Maybe she’d actually be able to get some sleep if she was already out by the time he got home. They had barely spoken in the past couple days, ever since their fight. This was how she knew it was bad. They always fought—their entire relationship was seemingly built on bickering—but they usually made up after. She didn’t see them making up after this. 

Despite not having been able to retrieve her parents’ memories, she still liked to check in on them via a contact in Australia. She pulled out her laptop that she kept around for such activities and checked her email. She found nothing of import, but decided to play some music while she was online. She quite enjoyed Muggle music and would stream it whenever possible. A bottle of red wine levitated off the kitchen counter and poured into a nearby glass as the soothing strains of Adele wafted through the house. Hermione took a long sip and let her mind wander. 

It had been a long day, and she tried to leave work at the office, but the strain was getting to be a little much. She really could use some extra help. It would have to be approved by the Wizengamot first, but maybe she should schedule a meeting soon. By the time she had settled into a bath, the bottle of wine was nearly finished. She swallowed the last bit as the bubbles dwindled and she begrudgingly left the still hot water (bless magic) with her fingers and toes all pruny. She collapsed into bed and fell straight asleep, not rousing at all when Ron stumbled in at 2am, pissed out of his mind, and flopped onto the bed himself, giving her a wide berth.

When Hermione arrived to her office the next day, Harry was waiting for her. Most people needed an appointment to meet with the Minister for Magic, but not Harry Potter. 

“‘Morning, Hermione.”

“‘Morning, Harry. What’s up?”

“I just want you to remember that we are best friends, no matter what, right?”

She pursed her lips. “You’re starting to scare me a little…” She tossed her bag onto her desk and sat down to face him. 

“No. Nothing to be scared of, just—remember how you were saying you needed help?”

“Yeah—Harry what’s this about?”

“Well, Seamus is on the Wizengamot, and I mentioned your needing help, so he brought it to the rest of the members. You’ll probably be summoned today.”

“For what?”

“It’s really best if I let them tell you. I wasn’t even supposed to mention anything.”

“I’m the bloody minister! How do you know something about my job before I do?”

“Because Finnegan’s got a big mouth, but you’ll be informed shortly. I just wanted to give you a heads up and remind you how very much I love you.” With that, he got up and fled her office. 

Hermione shook her head, almost able to see the puff of smoke he’d left behind. 

True to what Harry had said, a memo landed on her desk shortly afterward calling her to the lower levels for court. They had only given her an hour’s notice. Still, considering the history of them moving trials all the time, she guessed this courtesy was evidence of the progress that had been made. 

As she entered the rotunda, she eyed all the people already seated. The deep mahogany wood of the risers made the room look smaller than it was, all dark and condensed with the 50 or so members in their eggplant colored robes. Off to the side where non-members would sit, she spied Draco Malfoy seated with a few others. Harry was there as well, looking pained.  _ What could this possibly be about? _ Hermione walked up to the dais and took her seat. Along with the other changes that had come to the ministry, the minister could no longer serve as Chief Warlock, so there could be no conflicts of interest.

Percy Weasley was currently the Chief Warlock and honestly looked rather smug about it most of the time. His ginger hair, which he now grew long for some reason, gleamed against his purple Wizengamot robes. “Good Morning, Minister.”

“Good Morning, Chief Warlock.”

“We’ve called you here this morning to talk about reinstating the position of Advisor to the Minister for Magic.”

Straight to the point—it was one of the things she actually liked about Percy. “Oh? I rather thought that was a mostly ‘title-only’ position that was invented so Cornelius Fudge could help the transition of ministers from himself to Rufus Scrimgeour.”

Percy cleared his throat. “While that is mostly true, there are other precedents for the position.”

Yes, Hermione had read about Septimus Malfoy’s abuse of the position to take control of the ministry back in the 18th century, but she wasn’t about to bring that up with his descendant in the room. She nodded, giving Percy the go-ahead to continue.

“It has come to the attention of the court that you have become a bit over-burdened as minister. We believe an advisor would simply help to alleviate some of your workload, namely liaising with the muggle Prime Minister.”

_ Oh, thank Merlin _ . “I see, and what else would this advisor be responsible for?”

“Daily meetings with you to check base and see if there’s any low-importance tasks that can be handed off, assessing your current load and making sure you’re not stretching yourself too thin.”

“ _ Daily _ ?” Hermione protested. “Is it the opinion of the Wizengamot that I need a babysitter?” She thought she heard Harry audibly groan from his seat.

“Not a babysitter, Minister Granger. Merely someone to handle any excess duties while also keeping abreast of your well-being.”

She sat back in her seat, trying to not look like a petulant child about this. It was true that she had been spread too thin lately. She’d even expressed the desire for someone to help out. It just felt very different when she was basically having help thrust upon her. 

“And I’m supposing the court has already elected someone for the advisor position?” Another look to the non-member section had her focused on Draco Malfoy, the smallest of smirks creeping onto his face.  _ No, no. They wouldn’t _ . It wasn’t like he was still a Death Eater or anything—and in the eyes of everyone who mattered, he had been absolved of all crimes. In fact, they had worked perfectly fine together last year. Still, something about the man got under her skin. 

It wasn’t until he raised his shoulders and threw her a look that said ‘what?’ that Hermione realized she had been staring intently at him this whole time. The sparkle in his grey eyes unnerved her, and she felt her cheeks heat up. She turned her attention back to the Chief Warlock.

Percy looked over to his right. “The Wizengamot recognizes member Zabini.”

Blaise Zabini stood up. “I nominate Draco Malfoy for Advisor to the Minister for Magic.”

Hermione looked back and forth between the Slytherins as Draco stood up. He looked as sharp as ever, clad in all black with his long, white-blonde hair pulled back. Percy turned to him and asked, “Draco Malfoy, do you accept this nomination?”

“I do, Chief Warlock.” He was the picture of sincerity, the smirk long gone. 

Percy looked around the room at the other members, all of them taking this quite well. Perfectly fine for them—they weren’t being forced into daily meetings with their former bully. “Does anyone else have a nomination?”

No one did. Not one person. 

Hermione watched Harry slink further down in his seat. She considered him complicit by now. Seriously, there were no other takers? Were people really that scared of her?

“Very good. As there are no other nominations, Draco Malfoy is hereby declared the new Advisor to the Minister for Magic by default.” Percy tapped his wand against the podium, releasing a golden banner that stated the results before vanishing.

“Do I—do I not get a say in this?” Hermione looked around the room, flabbergasted.

“I’m afraid not, Minister. This position has been reinstated in an effort to help you. We need to have someone objective who will be willing to report to the Wizengamot in the event that you are not being forthright about the volume of work.”

“ _ Excuse me _ ?”

Percy was slightly flushed, but continued in a lower tone as most of the members were up and milling about now. “It’s not that we don’t trust you, but we are concerned. Even Harry expressed his concern about the amount of work you’ve been doing—the late hours, the lack of sleep. Do you not admit it’s taking a toll?”

“But that’s not for the Wizengamot to decide!” She was livid. She could feel the heat rising to her face. 

“Actually it is. You helped arrange this new system of checks and balances so no one person would have too much power, remember?”

Oh, how she wanted to punch him. Or Zabini. Or Malfoy. Hell, even Harry would do at this point. “Yes, I remember.”

“Good. Then your first meeting with your new advisor will be tomorrow.”

Hermione huffed and left the dais to nearly stumble right into Draco. He caught her by the arms and she latched onto his for support as she righted herself. Looking up into his eyes was a mistake. The normal grey had gone a bit darker—maybe it was just the terrible lighting in the room, but she couldn’t quite make out his expression.

“Careful, Granger. Looks like I’ve got my work cut out for me.”

She ignored the flutter in her chest. Surely it was a side effect of this crazy morning. “Yes, well. I guess we shall see about that.”

He was somewhat slow to release her, making sure she was more than steady before removing his hands. “We shall. See you tomorrow?”

Hermione grit her teeth in a semblance of a smile. “Looks like I don’t have much of a choice.”

“That’s the spirit.” He smirked as he left to catch up with Blaise. 

Spinning around, she saw the object of her ire about to slip out of the room. “Harry James Potter! Don’t you dare try to sneak out of here.”

Harry stopped in his tracks, looking much like a puppy who’d just wet the floor. “Me? I wasn’t—”

“My office.  _ Now _ .”

 

* * *

 

Sitting down at her desk, Hermione took several calming breaths before looking at Harry. “Did you know—who they were going to choose?”

“It was just a rumor.”

“Why? Why is Draco Malfoy the perfect fit to be my advisor?”

Harry laughed. “He wouldn’t have been my first choice either, Hermione…but I don’t know if you’re aware of this—people are  _ terrified _ of you.”

She looked affronted. “Terrified...of me? Don’t make me laugh.”

“Myself included. Look, you’re like my sister, but you can be downright scary when you’re angry. Not to mention stubborn as a mule. You won’t rest until you’ve accomplished whatever overly ambitious goal you’ve set for yourself.”

She huffed, but didn’t bother trying to contradict him. It was all true. 

“As far as I’m aware, the members of the Wizengamot reached out to several individuals regarding the position. Malfoy is the only one who said yes.”

“But Harry… he’s  _ Malfoy _ .”

“I know, but you’ve seen yourself how different he is. He helped us with all that Delphi bullshit last year. If I can have lunch with him, you can certainly work with him. Aren’t there loads of people you dislike at the ministry?”

“Yes, but I can usually avoid them. I’ll have to meet with him  _ every day _ .”

Harry sighed. “I do think daily meetings are a bit overkill. But just think—no more Muggle PM.”

“Thank Merlin. I guess I’ve survived worse...he has visited my office a couple times recently, and it wasn’t so bad.”

“There you go. Where’s that Gryffindor bravery?”

She gave him a saccharine smile. “Get out of here before I change my mind about throttling you.”

“See? Scary.”

 

* * *

 

When Hermione got home, Ron was sitting at the table, a pint of ale in hand. There was a delicious smelling stew simmering on the stove. “You cooked?”

“We need to talk.” He looked forlorn—ragged. As tired as she felt. 

“We haven’t spoken in days.”

“That’s the problem, ‘Mione. I can never remember what we’re fighting about anymore. And I’m tired of fighting.”

“I’m just tired.” She took the seat opposite him, setting her bag down in one of the empty chairs. 

A wisp of a grin flashed on his face. “When did we get so old?”

Tears started to form at the corners of her eyes. “Speak for yourself.”

A humorless laugh escaped his lips before he took a long sip of his ale. “What do you want, Hermione? I’m so sick of trying to guess and always being wrong.”

This was the moment. And after the day she’d had, she didn’t have it in her to pretend anymore. She steeled herself, bidding her tears to wait a bit longer. “I want a divorce.”

“So that’s it then? No more working on it?”

“We’ve been working on it for years, Ronald. What’s the point anymore?”

He nodded, and she could sense his resignation. But he still pushed back, because that’s just who he was. She used to love that about him. “But I still love you.”

“Sometimes that isn’t enough.” She couldn’t stop her voice from trembling, and the tears started falling freely. 

He nodded again. He said nothing as she sobbed at the kitchen table. It was how she knew they were really done. The fact that he didn’t fight harder. 

“The stew should be done, and there’s crusty bread in the oven. I’m going to stay at the Burrow tonight.”He patted her shoulder reassuringly before grabbing the duffle that she had missed seeing on the couch and disapparating.

 

* * *

 

Draco wandered the halls of the mansion, too anxious to go to bed yet. Under Astoria’s gentle hand, most of the place had been renovated and redecorated. She had lightened the atmosphere in more ways than one. After she died, all of the natural light and neutral colors had felt flat; but as he passed some of the rooms, he started to feel potential in them again. Like there were possibilities still. 

Wrapped up in his own thoughts, he had barely noticed when he crossed over into his mother’s wing. Her area was unchanged, done up in jewel tones: emerald, sapphire, and amethyst with gold accents everywhere. It was rich and ornate to match her taste. Assuming she must have heard his footsteps, Draco greeted his mother with a smile as she emerged from her suite.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Narcissa gathered her nighttime robe in midnight purple in her hands as she padded out into the hall.

“Haven’t tried yet. Care for some tea?”

They sat in one of the parlors as Tilly brought them tea. He had forgotten how comforting his mother’s presence could be when she wasn’t moping. It was only fair that he give her ample time for grief, though. Merlin knows she was there for him after losing Astoria.

“So how are things, my dear? It seems like you’ve been home less these days.”

“Yes, actually, I wanted to let you know… I’m returning to work tomorrow.”

“Oh? What kind of work?”

“I’m to be the new Advisor to the Minister for Magic.”

“Draco, that’s so prestigious! Oh, I’m so proud of you.” Narcissa had a sheen of moisture in her eyes as she smiled at her son. “How did you manage that?”

“It was Blaise that nominated me. You know he’s on the Wizengamot now.”

“Ah yes, I had heard. And how do you feel about working so closely with your former classmate?”

He knew he’d have to be careful with the question even as a gentle flush crept across his neck. As far as his mother was concerned, everything had been forgotten after Hermione testified at his trial. Though Lucius had grunted on occasion when her achievements had been brought up, never again was a bad word said against the Muggle-born that was once tortured in this very house. He had always followed Hermione’s career, donating to her campaigns and secretly wishing her much success. “Well, that’s a complicated qu—”

“It’s okay, Draco. I know.” She stretched her hand across the table to hold his hand. 

He gulped. “Know what, exactly?”

“How you felt about her back then.”

Was he that bloody transparent? It made sense that his own mother would have guessed his secret affections, but even Potter had figured it out. He could only hope that Granger was not aware. “Was it that obvious?”

“To anyone else? No. Your father was perfectly happy thinking you hated the girl. I knew better. I wasn’t surprised when Astoria turned out to be stubborn, intelligent, and vivacious. You seem to have a type.”

He huffed, twirling his wedding band on his finger. Two years and he hadn’t taken it off yet, but he had started to fidget with it recently. “Yes, well. Times are different now. And the minister is still very much married.”

She patted his hand briefly, before withdrawing. “Oh I wasn’t trying to insinuate anything, love. Just wondering how you were feeling about all of it? Has she warmed to you at all, especially after the incident with Scorpius and Harry’s son?”

He hadn’t told his mother about Scorpius’s recent adventures with Rose. “I’d like to think so, but she was none too happy that I was the choice for advisor.”

“Well, you can’t blame her for that. Just take things slowly. Remember: trust has to be earned.”

Draco nodded, absentmindedly stroking the bit of stubble on his chin. It was no question that his mother was giving him wise advice. She always did. Still, old habits died hard, and he had to admit he was quite looking forward to ruffling at least of few of Granger’s proverbial feathers.

They finished their tea in companionable quiet and then retreated to their respective wings. Draco figured he should at least try to get some rest. He had a big day tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this a little late as I got distracted watching Tom Felton in The Flash... so that's pretty on brand for me. As usual, thanks to [raven_maiden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_maiden/pseuds/raven_maiden) for being a most excellent beta!
> 
> There's a tiny homage to The Force Awakens in here. Points to your Hogwart's house if you can find it!

It was strange waking up to an empty house. Hermione had actually slept pretty hard after eating two bowls of the stew Ron had made, and then crying profusely for almost an hour. She mourned the loss of the life she had always thought she wanted, the loss of the one she had just lost, and for everything it would never be. She was emotionally exhausted by the time she laid down and took advantage of his absence by spreading out on the bed like a land-ridden starfish.

In the morning, she took her time making her coffee, getting dressed, and finding something manageable to do with her hair. It wasn’t like she normally spent a long time getting ready for work, but she wanted to look presentable today.

It wasn’t that she was dressing up for Draco Malfoy—certainly not. It’s just—if she was going to have an advisor, she figured she shouldn’t look like she just tumbled out of bed and Flooed in.

The potion made her hair smooth and shiny, falling in big ringlets down her back. She gathered a bit back and fastened it with a black clip, nothing fancy. Then, deciding she had already come this far and still had time, she put on a bit of makeup—just some mascara and a dusty rose lip color—but it made quite a difference. Her wedding ring sat in the little dish next to the sink, where it had now been for weeks. She didn’t put it on.

She had asked Ron for a divorce last night. She should be feeling depressed: nearly 20 years of marriage down the drain. Instead, she felt lighter: like a burden had been lifted.

If it wasn’t for her preoccupation with her meeting today, she might have let herself feel guilty for not feeling bad, but there simply wasn’t time. A soft smile graced her face as she headed into the ministry.

Hermione was deep into a cup of tea and a folio on the recent Cornish pixie infestation in a mainly Muggle-populated area when a knock sounded on her door. Maybe this would be a good case for her advisor to start with—it would require some permits from the Muggle PM. “Come in!” she beckoned without looking up.

Draco waltzed into the minister’s office, feeling pretty good about this new job. “Minister,” he greeted.

“Advisor,” she replied, lifting her head with a slight smirk. If he was going to play nice, so could she.

His heart stuttered a bit as he looked at her face. She had makeup on—just a smidge, but it only enhanced her natural beauty. It looked like she had taken a smoothing potion to her hair as well, a portion of the shiny curls tied back neatly in the center of her head. He cleared his throat as he took a seat, feeling much like he was 14 again and seeing her on Krum’s arm at the Yule Ball. Poor Draco Malfoy, always wanting what he couldn’t have. “You um—you look really nice, Granger.”

She beamed at him then, a genuine thing. He wasn’t used to that from her. “Thank you, Malfoy.”

In fact, she looked so cordial and polished that he was worried he had missed something. “Any special occasion?”

“Well, you know, I thought I should probably put in a bit of effort seeing as I have my first meeting with my advisor today.”

“So you dressed up...for me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You could just as well be Neville Longbottom and I would’ve done the same.”

He laughed. “Point taken, Granger. Shall we get on with it, then?”

 

* * *

 

Their first meeting had gone surprisingly well. Draco had been receptive to the pixie problem and she handed it off to him, letting him know his first meeting with the Muggle PM would be the following week.

He was perfectly civil and hadn’t once insulted her, which honestly disconcerted her more than anything else. She had prepared herself to deal with an arrogant and petulant Malfoy, but all he kept doing was reminding her that the sneering boy he’d been at Hogwarts was long gone.

She had to figure out who he was all over again. It was, at the very least, an intriguing prospect.

The house was still empty when she got home.

Hermione surveyed her home as if it somehow looked different, just because things between Ron and herself had changed. If she took the time to wallow, she might never get anything done, so she got out her supplies and cleaned instead. A full deep clean. Muggle-style, no magic. After, with aching muscles and smelling slightly of pine, she brought her laptop out and started to look up available flats.

The house should go to Ron. It would be easier for him to commute to the shop, and he was always the one who made use of the kitchen. Besides, she was hardly ever there as it was.

She sent several emails to realtors before drawing herself a steaming bath. Wine and Adele made for good company again as she let the bubbles carry her somewhere else.

Sometimes Hermione would go into the office on Saturday, but today she decided there was more to do at home. A particularly eager realtor had emailed her back straight away and set up a meeting to look at one of the flats she had seen online. That would be later in the day, but for now she decided to start packing.

How did one distill 20 years down into a few small boxes? It was like being asked to part with pieces of herself as each memory came racing back to mind. The maternity pants she had worn while pregnant with Rose, the horrible “Mrs. W” sweater Molly had knitted shortly after she and Ron were married (though she had already informed them she was keeping her name), a ticket stub from the West End play she had taken Rose to her first summer after starting at Hogwarts.

Clothes and shoes were easy, but the sentimental stuff? That was hard.

Before long, it was time to leave to meet the realtor. Hermione cleaned up, dressed in a sharp pantsuit and Flooed to the Ministry. The flat was in Covent Garden, so she would be able to hail a cab or take a bus easily from Whitehall.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Granger.” The realtor’s name was Stevie, and she wore her sleek black hair in a stylish bun. Her black pencil dress and red blazer evoked a very confident figure.

“You as well.” Hermione was impressed by Stevie’s no-nonsense attitude and they quickly got on.

The flat was stunning: polished hardwood floors, chrome and granite surfaces in the kitchen, and lovely large windows that offered a partially obscured view of the Thames. Not bad, for the asking price. Located right off Strand, her commute to work was far less—she could even walk if she wanted. She had always used the Floo from home, but it could be nice to stretch her legs in Muggle London for a bit before getting into the Ministry.

It seemed poor judgement to take the first listing shown to her, but it was the perfect size for just her, offering a small office that could double as a guest room for when Rose came to stay over. They were right near West End, so she could even take her daughter to see more plays on breaks from Hogwarts.

Stevie was busy showing her the walk-in shower and separate tub, when Hermione burst out, “I’ll take it.”

“R-really?” Stevie lost her well-maintained composure for just a moment.

“Really. It’s perfect. The perfect place for starting over.” She absentmindedly rubbed the finger where her ring used to be and Stevie nodded in understanding.

“It is indeed, Ms. Granger. Well, let’s have a look at the paperwork then, shall we?”

 

* * *

 

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Malfoy.”

“You as well, Prime Minister.”

Draco was good at schmoozing—he always had been. It was easy to ingratiate himself to the Muggle Minister, her demure smile telling him she had already bought into his charms. The woman was all style and very little substance. No wonder she hated Hermione. He had been studying Muggle politics a little bit in order to be prepared, and had quickly realized that a good deal of it was just posturing.

It was easy to get the permits needed in order to allow them into the Muggle community to remove the pixies. Granger would hopefully be pleased with his work. The fact that the PM kept him around for tea and chatting was just icing on the cake.

By the time he got home to the manor, he was thoroughly exhausted. It had been too long since he’d put in a full day of work. He felt accomplished, a rising sense of pride flowing through his veins. It was like he was actually making a difference—which was certainly a new feeling for Draco Malfoy. He found he rather liked it.

“What’s got you so smiley?” A voice he hadn’t heard in a long time asked.

He turned and realized he was in front of his late wife’s portrait. It had barely registered as he was walking that he had taken this route. “Tori, love. I’ve started working.”

She was oil and pigment and memory, only a shadow of the real thing, but the smile on her face was very real. “So I’ve heard. Working with the Minister. How grand.”

“Yes, well. I feel like I’m actually being useful for once in my life.”

“Don’t talk like that. You were always useful to me. You were the reason I stayed around so long—you and Scorpius.”

He nodded, fidgeting with his wedding ring. He could feel the tears prick at the back of his eyes, and remembered this was why he didn’t come down this hall as often. When Astoria had first passed, he’d visit her portrait every day, but as time wore on it just hurt to remember that it wasn’t really her—and she would never really be back.

Her voice was quiet when she asked, “Draco, why are you still wearing your ring? It’s been over two years. I don’t expect you to stay lonely forever.”

“I know, love. I just—it’s the last piece of you I have.”

“That’s not true. You know part of me lives on in our son, and no one can take our wonderful memories away.”

His head bobbed up and down while he ran hand through his hair, untying the string that held it in the ponytail. It really was getting too long. “You’re right, as always.”

“Of course I am.” She smiled. “I want you to be happy, Draco. Will you try that, for me?”

“I will.”

 

* * *

 

“Brought you your tea, one sugar and a splash of milk.” Draco placed the mug on Hermione’s desk.

“Oh, why thank you. You didn’t have to do that. Sally usually brings me my—”

“I wanted to, Granger. It’s not a big deal; I was already on my way here, and she looked busy.”

A weird smile crossed Hermione’s face. It had been over a week since Malfoy had been her advisor and they hadn’t killed each other yet, which she considered progress. Still, a part of her wondered if he was just being nice during the first phase of this new partnership and eventually he’d go back to his antagonistic ways.

“Well, I appreciate it.” She sipped the tea slowly, pondering the fact that it only took him a week to note how she took it. The few times Ron had tried to make her tea, he had always made it too sweet.

“So what’s on the agenda for today?” Draco rubbed small circles on Hermione’s office chair, feeling the smoothness of the worn down wood. He was getting more comfortable being here, but it was still weird. She hadn’t broken down again like that one time, so he assumed she and Weasley had patched things up. _Pity_.

“I received a glowing report from the Muggle PM about your meeting. So thank you for that. Huge weight off my shoulders.”

“No problem. She is a bit much, but easily charmed.”

Hermione huffed. “Easy for you to say.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means your Slytherin so charm comes easily to you. And you’re a handsome man, so I’m sure that helped.”

Draco started. “Wait—you think I’m handsome?”

“That’s not—it isn’t the point. You know you’re attractive, what with the way you dress and carry yourself.”

“Hermione Granger thinks I’m attractive. Shall I fetch Rita Skeeter? Give a personal interview?” He looked very smug.

 _You are almost 40 years old; do not let this ferret rile you up_. It was no use though, she could feel the heat rush to her cheeks. “Oh shut it, Malfoy.”

“As you wish, Minister.”

“If you must know, I think you resemble your father a bit too much for my liking at present, but I have always thought you were handsome. If that leaves this room, I will send the Aurors to assassinate you.”

“Noted.”

 

* * *

 

Once she had finally verbalized that divorce was what she wanted, Ron hadn’t even put up a fight. This was how she knew he had seen it coming, too. They had both been in denial for far too long. But deep down, they had known.

Hermione took a deep breath on the doorstep outside the Burrow before lifting her hand to knock. No doubt the entire Weasley clan knew about their separation by now. No need to prolong the inevitable. Molly opened the door on the second knock and pulled her into a hug. “Hermione, dear. So glad you showed up.”

Well, this was not the welcome she expected. She had been prepared to start dodging tomatoes the moment she walked in. “Has Ron told you?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes, yes. Now come inside before you catch your death in this cold.”

Ron was sitting on the threadbare couch chatting with Arthur as they each sipped on a pint. He actually looked relaxed, happy even. “‘Mione! What are you doing here?”

“I think we need to talk.”

Most of the rooms were empty, now that all the children had grown up and gone off. They were reclaimed at holidays and as needed, but right now all they had to do was pick one in order to find privacy. “So, what’s up?”

“How are you? You seem well.”

“Ah, you know Mum—seems to think food will cure my broken heart. So I’ve been eating well. And Dad’s been filling me in on all the goings on with the rest of the family.”

“Oh, good.” She nodded, if only for something to do. Why was this so awkward?

“Why’d you come then, Hermione?”

“I’ve decided you should keep the house.”

Ron looked shocked for a moment. “Really?”

She touched his arm lightly, before thinking better of it and letting her hand drop. “Yes. I mean, you love that house, and you always made more use of it than I did. I’ve found a flat in Muggle London, close to the Ministry.”

“Oh.”

“It has space for Rose and everything. I figured with my hectic schedule at the Ministry, you could have her during the week and I’d take weekends.” Hermione knew how messy these things could get in the Muggle world, and she didn’t want it to be like that with them. A nice, smooth transition was what she preferred.

“Blimey, Hermione. You really thought it all through already, haven’t you? Don’t you think we should at least tell Rose first?”

“Yes, that was actually going to be my next point—there’s a trip to Hogsmeade this weekend. I thought we could meet her there and tell her in person. It would be better coming from both of us together.”

He nodded. She hoped that he could see all this planning ahead for what it was: an olive branch. No more fighting, no more awkwardness—just everyone moving on with the next phase of their lives. “Yeah, I should be able to manage that.”

“Good, good. I’ll be all moved out within the week as well, so if you want to come back to the house.” She squeezed his shoulder in a comforting gesture.

“If it’s all the same, I think I’ll just wait till you’re completely out.”

“Yeah… alright. I’ll owl you then.”

She turned to leave, but as her hand was on the doorknob, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. “Hermione,” he breathed as he captured her lips in a sweet, chaste kiss.

There was no fire, no passion, and certainly no tongue. It wasn’t a last-ditch effort for her to change her mind, but rather saying goodbye the only way he knew how. She could feel the tears streaming down her cheeks as he broke the kiss, wiping at a few of the tears and dragging his thumb down her cheek to her chin. “It wasn’t all bad, was it?” he asked.

“No, Ron. A lot of it was rather good.” She took his hand from her face and kissed his palm before letting go.

She could feel his eyes on her back, but he didn’t follow. Good. This was hard enough as it was. She breezed back through the front of the house, pausing only as she stepped through the kitchen. Molly was setting out plates and called, “Sure you don’t want to stay for dinner, love?”

Hermione wiped under her cheeks again quickly before turning to her mother-in-law. “No, thanks. I can’t stay, just needed to talk to Ron.”

Molly ambled over as the plates continued to set themselves down on the table. She grabbed Hermione’s cheeks and looked deep into her eyes. “Listen, no matter what, you will _always_ be family. I love you like a daughter, and you will always be welcome in this house, okay?”

She nodded her assent, feeling the tears start again as Molly kissed her forehead. Glancing back, she noticed Arthur frowning into his beer as she left. He seemed to be taking it harder than his wife. As soon as she was out the door, she heaved giant gulps of crisp air into her lungs. That had actually gone better than she anticipated. She gave the Burrow one last look before Apparating home.

 

* * *

 

Standing in her living room, Hermione looked at all the boxes she had packed her life into. A fresh start—it was what she needed, she told herself, and so she tried to only bring the essentials. Everything else, she figured Ron could find a use for. Besides, it’s not like she’d never be back here. With a longing glance to the stairs where Rose had sprained her ankle, the spot on the kitchen floor that was still burned from one of Ron’s experiments, and the window that had slightly clearer glass because it had broken the time Uncle Harry tried to show his niece how to fly, she grabbed her enchanted trunk and began floating all the boxes into it.

After bringing everything to her new flat, she was scheduled to meet Ron and travel to Hogsmeade. Rose had owled her response straight away, remarking that it was unusual for parents to make the trip. Hermione wondered how much her daughter knew.

She met them at the Three Broomsticks and Hermione tried to shake off the deja vu of meetings here back when she was at Hogwarts. She ignored the nostalgia and forced herself to focus on the task at hand. All three of them were nursing butterbeers when Ron finally cleared his throat. “Your mother and I have something to tell you, and we wanted to say it in person.”

Rose looked up, her face pensive. “You’re finally doing it, aren’t you?”

“What?” they asked nearly in unison, shocked.

“Getting a divorce. That’s why you called the ominous family meeting on my school trip, right?”

“Blimey, she takes after you, Hermione.”

She offered him a small smile. “Yes, actually. We are… getting a divorce. Do you have any questions for us?”

“Not really. You guys have been unhappy for years. I was honestly expecting this a lot sooner.”

Her clever girl. “Well, as intuitive as you may be, you must also know that we both love you very much and that won’t be changing.”

Rose nodded. “I know. I love you both, too.” She smiled softly. “Who will I be living with when on break?”

Ron spoke up then, running a hand through his shaggy red locks. “I’m staying at the house and you’ll be with me during the week. Mum will have you at her new flat on the weekend.”

At this, Rose seemed to perk up a little. She swept a mass of ginger curls over her shoulder—it never ceased to amaze Hermione how she looked like a blend of the two of them—and asked, “Oh? Where is this new flat?”

“Covent Garden. We can definitely take in a play on occasion.”

“Swanky.” Rose flashed her an impressed look.

“So, before we let you get back to your friends, I have another question.” Hermione fiddled with her fingers, a little nervous to ask. “How are things going with Scorpius?”

Ron shot her a confused look, but thankfully kept quiet.

“Better, I think. I hexed him pretty good.”

“That’s my girl,” Ron said.

“No—” Hermione flashed him a look. “We do not just go about hexing people. Look, he shouldn’t have did what he did, but I’ve talked to Draco about it and it won’t happen again.”

“Oh I know it won’t… because I hexed him.”

Despite her objections, Hermione found herself laughing along with Ron and Rose. It felt like old times for just a moment, but it also felt like something new—like things were going to be just fine.

 

* * *

 

It was early, and technically he didn’t need to be in until later, but Draco hadn’t been able to sleep any more. It was purely by chance that he found himself on Level 5. Wandering the Ministry with a hot cup of tea was a great way to find eavesdrop on conversations people didn’t care enough to hide. Sometimes they were useful. That was how he happened to walk past the Office of Magical Unions.

Something told him to stay in the shadows as he heard hushed voices and then watched a pair of figures leave the room. There were only two reasons someone would visit the office—to pick up a marriage license, or to file for a divorce. Divorce proceedings were simpler in the wizarding world: a simple spell destroyed the old license and both parties signed a scroll dissolving the union. Of course, it happened so rarely that it didn’t need to be overly complex, unlike Muggles who always had to complicate things.

So it was to his utter shock to see that the figures who had been mere silhouettes moments before revealed themselves to be Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. Draco watched from his little alcove as a Ministry official handed them each a scroll. He found himself leaning in closer as she said something to the redhead and gave him an awkward pat on the shoulder. Weasley frowned, nodded, and walked off towards the lifts.

Yet Granger lingered. He watched as she unfurled the scroll, read the words to herself and shut her eyes, sighing. Her features conveyed a mix of sadness and relief. She then tucked the scroll into her bag, dusted herself off and strode purposefully towards the lifts.

He could barely believe it. When she hadn’t mentioned her marriage problems again, he assumed they had worked it out. _Guess not_. Draco wasn’t sure how to feel about this in light of his rather complicated emotions regarding the Minister herself. He certainly had no love lost for Weasley, but it was a sad state of affairs any way you looked at it. He was sure Granger must on some level feel like she failed—Merlin knows how seriously she took everything else in life. He vowed to himself to not be any worse than usual today.

Finishing the rest of his tea, he decided to make another stop at the cafe. As he walked to the lifts, he quietly slipped off his own ring and stashed it in an interior pocket.

It was just time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! We finally have some good Dramione interaction this chapter. Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Thanks as always to [raven_maiden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_maiden/pseuds/raven_maiden), who makes this fic better with her awesome beta skillz.
> 
> Also we have a new moodboard because I have been watching Tom in The Flash and needed to use pics of him as Julian Albert _somewhere_.

When Hermione got to her office, she had barely settled in before Draco showed up, two teas in hand. “You’re here early.”

“Couldn’t sleep. Figured I might as well come in. Tea?”

She smiled as she took the cup from him. It was still a really odd thing to get used to—Draco Malfoy, being kind and considerate to her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He sat down in front of her and sipped his tea slowly. It was then that Hermione noticed something—well, the  _ absence _ of something.

“You’ve taken off your ring,” she mused.

“Pardon?”

She blushed slightly, wondering why she had even noticed such a small feature. It seemed that her observant brain had picked up on his little details without her even knowing. “Your wedding ring… you’ve stopped wearing it.”

“Oh, right,” he said, his face a perfect mask of calmness. “Well, it’s been two years. I really only had it on out of habit, anyway. It seemed like it was time.” He shrugged, belying the fact that his heart was racing and his ring was currently stashed in his pocket.

Hermione nodded, not sure why her subconscious should even care. “That’s good. That you’re moving on, that is.” 

Draco noticed her unease and decided to pounce while her guard was down. “I’ve noticed you don’t wear one yourself. Is that a  _ practical _ choice?”

She shifted in her seat and cleared her throat. “Yes, well. Since you’re my advisor, I should probably tell you first so we can head off any bad press about this. Ron and I are divorced. It’s official as of today, actually.”

He watched her features closely. She was uncomfortable, yes—but there was something else simmering under the surface he couldn’t quite read. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He wasn’t, actually.

She looked down at her desk, fingers swirling around the grain in the wood. “You don’t seem surprised. I suppose I’m not either… it’s been a long time coming, to be perfectly honest.”

“I always thought you could do better than Weasley—”

“Listen,” she snapped, cutting him off. “We had our differences, and it’s for the best that we’re not together anymore. But I won’t hear an ill word against him. Understood?”

Draco swallowed. He wondered if she knew just how downright terrifying she could be. “Of course. My mistake.”

She cleared her throat with a crisp nod, anxious to move on. “So. How do you think we should handle it? Do you know anyone at the _ Prophet _ ? Maybe I should give an interview…”

He waved her off. “I don’t think that’s necessary. It would be best as a blurb, something most people might gloss over. Let me handle it.”

“O-okay,” she exhaled, releasing the tension that had gathered from her little outburst. It was bad enough that she had been forced to admit out loud that she was divorced-- officially a failure at marriage. She didn’t need any judgements from Malfoy.

Draco crossed his legs. “So what else is on the agenda for today?”

 

* * *

 

“What is this?” Harry flung the latest edition of  _ The Daily Prophet _ onto Hermione’s desk.

She looked down and read the headline. “Fight Breaks Out at Knockturn Alley— Aurors Suspect Dark Magic Involved?”

“No, not that. The little blurb in the corner.” Harry took a seat and stared pointedly at her.

“Minister and Husband Quietly Divorce…” she trailed off, gulping. “Harry, I’m sorry—”

“You’re sorry?  _ You’re sorry _ . Sorry you forgot to tell your best friend that you were getting a divorce?” He removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. “I can’t decide who I’m more upset with—you or Ron.”

Hermione allowed herself to close her eyes for a moment, thanking Malfoy silently for making the story as small as possible. She wondered secretly if he had anything to do with causing the ruckus that overtook her story for the front page. “I thought Ron would’ve told you, and then I got so busy, and you weren’t in the office yesterday…”

“I just—when did we start keeping things from each other?” He looked pained and her heart broke a little.

Her breath came out in short huffs as she willed herself not to cry. “I didn’t want to put anything between you and Ron. I didn’t want you to have to choose a side.”

“Hermione… I knew things were rough, but I didn’t know they were this bad.” He stroked his scruff, thinking about it. “I mean, I guess it’s not a surprise though, is it? You guys were always at each other’s throats in school and we thought it was just the tension, but it kept on even after you got together. If I’m being honest, I even wondered at the wedding. Merlin, Ron was so drunk.” He looked up at her, a sad smile on his face. “It was never going to be happily ever after for you two, was it?”

She rose from her desk at the same time he stood and shuffled into his waiting arms. She finally let loose the tears she’d been holding back all day. 

“I’m so sorry, Hermione,” he whispered into her hair as he stroked her back. “For the record, I’m on your side as well as his. You never have to ask. I’ll always be there for you.”

“Thank you, Harry.” She sniffled and grabbed a tissue from her desk to wipe her damp cheeks. She leaned against the desk and admitted, “I should’ve told you sooner.”

Sitting back down, he offered her a sullen smile. “So what are you going to do now?”

“I’ve moved out of the house and got a flat not far from here. I’d love to have you and Ginny over for dinner once I get settled.”

“I’d like that.”

“Ron will have Rose during the week on breaks, and I’ll have the weekends.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all sorted already.”

“I didn’t want a big fuss. You know these things have a way of getting messier than they need to be.”

He nodded. “What did Malfoy say? I’m assuming you had to tell him since you two are working so closely now.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “He tried to say something about how he always thought I could do better—”

“That slimy git!”

She held up a hand. “Don’t worry, I put him in his place.”

“I’ll bet you did.”

“He was actually very understanding.”

Harry cocked an eyebrow and looked like he refrained from whatever he was about to say. “Good. I’d hate to have to deck him.”

“Come now, I thought you were becoming friends.”

He huffed. “An occasional lunch does not a best friend make.”

She smiled. Some things never changed. “No, I suppose not.”

 

* * *

 

Hermione surveyed her new flat. The rest of the furniture she had ordered had been delivered and set up. So far, the kitchen was her favorite room. The chrome gleamed and the granite countertops were still spotless. She had gotten a beautiful wooden bowl and filled it with an assortment of fruit. There was even room for her cauldron, which she had set up with some different ingredients and vials. It would be nice to brew the occasional potion in her free time.  _ What free time? _ she mused, smiling at her own misplaced idealism. 

She had a small table in the breakfast nook, a cream colored sofa in the adjacent living area, a flat screen TV (for keeping up on Muggle news), and a mocha wood coffee table. The office held a cherry wood roll top desk as well as a matching twin bed for Rose when she would stay. She tried to make it as warm and inviting as possible while still retaining its utility, since Rose would only be around on weekends during the summer and breaks from Hogwarts. 

Then there was her bedroom—after much deliberation, she had decided on a palette of light grey, eggplant, and a splash of sky blue. It was decadent, feminine, but would also be appealing to a man should she decide to bring one here in the future. She laughed a bit to herself at the thought of the headline “Hermione Granger Takes a Lover! _ ” _ splashed across the front page of the  _ Prophet _ . 

She made her way into her new spacious bathroom and ran herself a bath. As she let the hot water ease her tense muscles, she let her hand drift down between her thighs and thought about how much she missed sex—especially the kind of sex when she and Ron had first gotten together—the frantic, passionate, consuming kind. She wondered if she’d ever experience that again, or if her time had already passed. Her fingers worked faster beneath the surface of the water, causing a rhythm of splashes against the porcelain as she imagined stolen kisses and gasps of pleasure from a lover that was both faceless and familiar. Unbidden, a single tear escaped, rolling down and splashing into the tub as she came. 

 

* * *

 

“Granger, what the  _ fuck _ is Brexit?” Draco stormed into their office for their daily meeting without even bothering to knock. 

“What?” She looked up from her tea and the scroll she was perusing, miffed at his abrupt entrance. 

He plopped unceremoniously into his normal seat and cast her a derisive look. “Brexit. What is it? I had to listen to that  _ cow _ bitch and moan about it for nearly an hour today. I’m already exhausted.”

Hermione chuckled to herself. He was kind of cute when he was insulting the Muggle PM. “So there’s this organization called the European Union…” She launched into an in-depth explanation of the multiple votes and referendums, deadlines and trade deals, watching his eyes slowly start to glaze over in the process. 

“What a bloody mess,” he mused as she finished. 

“Yes it is. But we have pressing matters to attend to in the wizarding world, so let’s move on, shall we?”

He nodded. “There’s just one last thing you should know, Granger.”  He lowered his voice.“I think she tried to grab my arse.”

Granger blushed. Draco smirked, privately rejoicing that he was still able to elicit such an emotion from her even after meeting for more than a month now. He hadn’t lost his touch. “She  _ what _ ?”

He was pretty sure it was an accident, but there was no harm in embellishing a bit for his benefit. “The PM. She grazed me as I was leaving and it seemed almost  _ deliberate _ .”

Hermione cleared her throat, a slight flush licking up the sides of her delicate neck. “Well. Do you want me to intervene?”

“No. No, that won’t be necessary. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“If you’re sure—”

“It’s fine, Granger.” He watched her flushed cheeks gradually return to normal as they discussed more important matters. She handed off a project regarding broom safety regulations that would require him to meet with the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. 

It was actually a subject of interest to him, and he was almost surprised that she was giving him something he’d enjoy. Perhaps he was simply saving her from having to oversee what she saw as a boring task. 

“Is that all?” he asked, rising to leave. 

“Yes. See you tomorrow.” She flashed him a quick smile and and pretended to look back down at her documents, but he was quite certain he could feel her gaze on his tailored slacks as he sauntered out of her office.  _ Mission accomplished.  _

Draco smiled as he stepped into the lift, heading to Level 7 to get started on his  _ other _ project.

 

* * *

 

The next few weeks passed by in a blur. Hermione felt more rested than she’d been in years, and she knew exactly why—Malfoy was pulling his weight, and then some. She had started out handing him simple projects: things she had been putting off because she just didn’t have time. He would complete them before she could decide what to hand off next. He kept meeting with the Muggle PM, followed by an unfailingly detailed rundown after each liaison. And he kept bringing her tea, just the way she liked it. If his angle was to get her to let her guard down, it was working. Not only was she starting to trust him more and more, she was also starting to depend on him. For someone as fiercely independent as she, it was terrifying.

As much as she hated to admit it, he also gave sound advice. She was currently listening to his presentation for the Magical Games and Sports budget. Apparently he had discovered some unnecessary spending when overseeing the new broom safety regulations.

“So if we allocate the funds from this area, it should actually free up a tenth of the budget to go to other projects, like free summer Quidditch practice for low-income families.”

Hermione looked over the stats he had handed her. “This is very impressive, Draco.”

He wasn’t sure when it had started, but she had taken to using his given name more and more. He let the feel of it wash over him before he smirked. “Don’t sound so surprised. I was always just behind you in school.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I remember.”

Draco couldn’t help it. He loved bringing the old Granger out to play. Every time she snorted or rolled her eyes at his expense, his heart rate sped up just a bit. And he was pretty sure the enjoyment was becoming mutual. The more he made her blush or flustered, the more the tiny embers of hope inside him sparked anew. 

He wasn’t even sure what his endgame was at this point. She hadn’t been divorced that long, and he was confident she’d never cross professional boundaries for a casual affair—though, if he were being honest with himself, that’s not what he was looking for either. It had been a long time since he’d needed his Occlumency skills—there was no need to compartmentalize when you never were around other people, after all—but he thought that maybe it was time to start practicing again. 

Yet... something else inside him encouraged him to throw caution to the wind. Maybe it was time that he took a chance and trusted his heart for a change. He went home and started making a few appointments. 

 

* * *

 

Rose didn’t always come home for Easter break, but both Hermione and Ron decided it would be a good time to test the waters of their arrangement by having her back. She had spent the week with her father, and now it was Hermione’s turn.

Naturally, she had given Draco the time off as well if he wished to spend it with Scorpius, which he took her up on. They didn’t both need to be in the office during holidays, and she knew how much he missed his son. She hadn’t seen him now in almost a week, and to her utter dismay, she realized she missed him. Their easy banter and intense debates had become second nature by this point—it was almost like being friends. 

_ Oh my god. Am I seriously considering Draco Malfoy my friend? _

Hermione shook her head as if to rid herself of the intrusive thought as Rose came out of the dressing room. She had promised to take her shopping in Muggle London. Rose was growing like a weed and in need of some casual clothes for when she was at home. 

“What do you think, Mum?”

It was a dress that was perfect for spring—a floral print in pink and white on a mint green background. It made her fiery hair appear even brighter and as she spun, Hermione got misty-eyed. Her baby was growing up. “It’s beautiful, dear. We should definitely get that one.”

Rose smiled and went back in to change again. 

An hour later, with a much lighter wallet, Hermione asked her daughter if they should go for frozen yogurt. There was still a slight chill in the air, but this weather always made her crave the sweet treat. They walked several blocks, purchases in hand, when they passed the cinema. 

“Rose!” a youthful voice called out. 

The pair turned to see Scorpius Malfoy waving wildly, practically jogging up the pavement to catch up to them. He wore jeans and an Avengers t-shirt with a sharp looking leather jacket. No doubt the jacket was his father’s doing. 

“Hi, Scorpius,” Rose said politely as he came up to them. 

A figure slowly walked up behind him, shaking his head slowly at his son’s antics. Hermione looked up at him and had to do a double take—if she didn’t have Scorpius right in front of her, she would question who this man was. 

He had cut his hair. All of it. It was now as short as it had been sixth year, unable to skim his collar even. It was parted off to the side, giving him a slight fringe in the front. He looked so much younger, and not very much like Lucius at all. Not only was the hair different, but he was wearing Muggle jeans and a black turtleneck. He had a day’s worth of stubble, the blonde a shade darker than his platinum hair. 

He looked downright  _ edible _ .

Hermione tried to swallow, finding her mouth dry. 

Draco gave her a weird look. “Minister,” he greeted in that slow, sexy drawl. Wait—had his voice always been that sexy?

She finally found the ability to speak. “Draco…what are you doing here?”

“Oh, well Scorpius just  _ had _ to see that  _ Captain Marvel _ movie, so we went to the cinema.”

“Do you enjoy the MCU, Rose?” Scorpius asked her. 

“I like Captain America.” The pair of them started talking about superheroes, and Hermione turned her attention back to Draco. 

“You cut your hair.”

He smirked. “Noticed, did you?”

“Well, it’s quite a difference.”

“It seemed time for a change.”

“Looks good.”

His smirk widened to a full-blown smile. “Thanks, Granger.”

She tried to ignore the tingle that ran through her when he said her surname.  _ That’s new _ . “Rose and I were just going for frozen yogurt if you’d like to join—”

“Oh can we?” Scorpius lit up at the suggestion.

Draco didn’t take his eyes off of Hermione as he said, “Sure, I don’t see why not.” He held out his arm for her. 

She looked at it with trepidation, feeling a frisson of  _ something _ passing between them as she slipped her arm in his, walking off in the direction of the yogurt shoppe. 

Hermione wondered if she was blushing. She sure hoped not. She had never really seen Draco interact with his son before. He smiled more than she’d ever seen in the span of the last 30 minutes. He laughed, too. Not a chuckle, but genuine laughter. The sound warmed her through. 

Rose and Scorpius continued to chat in a friendly manner while she tried not to stare at Draco’s mouth, his pink tongue slipping out to catch a bit of mint chocolate chip from his bottom lip. She could feel the heat on her neck. Merlin, what was happening?

“You okay, Granger? You look a bit flushed.”

“I’m fine. It’s not warm in here to you?” The excuse sounded lame even to her ears, and she shoved a bite of raspberry white chocolate into her mouth to prevent any further embarrassment. 

Draco gave her a cheeky grin. “I’m perfectly comfortable.”

Inwardly, he was celebrating. His new look had its intended effect—he could tell Granger was attracted to him. She had told him as much before, but said he had reminded her too much of his father. Well, no more: if anything could distance him from Lucius, it was a haircut and embracing Muggle culture. Not that it was hard—Scorpius loved a lot of Muggle things. 

It was pure luck that they happened to run into them today. Or maybe it was fate. Either way, Draco was thanking every deity that they had passed this way. The red spreading across Hermione’s décolletage was worth sitting through a hundred superhero movies. Not that this one had been all that bad—the main villain reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t place it.

“Oh, it must just be me then,” she mumbled. He watched her in earnest as she licked her lips clean. What he wouldn’t give to know what she tasted like. 

“Hmmm,” he replied. 

 

* * *

 

Rose was unpacking her new clothes and putting them away when Hermione came into the room. She smiled, pleased with how well her daughter was acclimating to the new flat. “So things are better with Scorpius now, huh?”

“Yeah, we’re friends. I think he’s gotten over his crush.”

Hermione wasn’t so sure about that, but he had probably learned from his father how to hide it better. She wouldn’t be surprised if he was teaching him Occlumency. “That’s good.”

Rose turned around, placing her hand on her hip. She looked so much like her mother when she did that, but then she grinned in a way that was all Ron. “Speaking of the Malfoys, what was going on with you and his dad?”

Hermione blanched slightly. “Well, you know Draco is my advisor at the Ministry, and we’ve become close—”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Rose Granger-Weasley, what are you implying?”

“I saw the way you were looking at him, Mum. You were undressing him with your eyes!”

“I was doing no such thing! He just—got a haircut since I saw him last, and it threw me off! That’s all.”

“Uh-huh, okay.” Rose twirled her wand in her hand and practiced movements for some of the new spells she had learned.

“I mean, your father and I  _ just _ got divorced.”

“Dad’s already been on a date. Why can’t you?”

Hermione had to sit down on the bed at the revelation. Rose joined her. “He has?”

“Yeah. He said it wasn’t a big deal, but that he wanted to ‘get back out there’.” She used air quotes and feigned a deeper voice when she said the last bit.

“Did he say who it was with? Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

“Padma Patil. She just moved back to Britain after divorcing her American husband.”

“Oh.” She remembered seeing them at the Yule Ball together briefly before he ruined her evening with Viktor. Interesting that they would reconnect after all these years.

“I mean, you and dad were fighting or just plain miserable for a long time. Surely you want to date again?”

Her child was so wise. “I do. But not just yet, and  _ certainly _ not Draco Malfoy.”

Rose looked confused. “Why not? He’s single, and you guys seem to get along.”

“There’s just… a lot of  _ history _ there. Besides, even if I were interested—which I’m not—he doesn’t think of me that way.”

Rose just shrugged, deciding to leave the issue alone for now. “Oh, by the way, I grabbed you some sugar quills. I know you like them.”

Hermione couldn’t believe she had remembered that. She must’ve said it in passing a long time ago. “Thank you, Rose. You’re so thoughtful.” She kissed her forehead and carried the gift out to the kitchen, leaving Rose to get ready for bed in peace.

Hermione could hardly believe the things her daughter had said. It was true that Draco’s appearance had thrown her off guard, but she wasn’t  _ interested _ in him. She might be attracted to him, possibly, but it didn’t  _ mean _ anything. She suddenly she had a mental image of his mouth and the flash of his tongue as he licked the frozen yogurt from his bottom lip. 

Fuck. This could be a problem.

 

* * *

 

It was late. Scorpius had gone to bed already, and Narcissa was undoubtedly slumbering in her chambers as well. Draco was still up. He had so much nervous energy that couldn’t be contained, so he was brewing a Draught of Peace to calm himself down. He added the hellebore syrup and sighed as the scent wafting from the potion began to soothe his anxious mind. 

Had he taken things too far? Hermione had seemed responsive to the changes he’d made, but he hoped he hadn’t been too brazen of a flirt. Merlin, his job could be at risk. What if she accused him of trying to seduce her and had him removed from his position immediately?

No, he told himself firmly. That was ridiculous. He had barely done anything. It was just his sleep-deprived brain playing tricks on him.

He finished simmering the draught and poured himself a dose straight away, hoping it would help him sleep. He preferred this potion to Dreamless Sleep because it didn’t leave him groggy in the morning. Besides, he was quite looking forward to what his dreams might bring. He trudged back up to his room, deciding a hot shower was in order before bed. 

Slowly, he stripped down, his mind lingering on the cherry red peacoat Hermione had been wearing, as well as the tight jeans and sheer white blouse through which he could almost make out the shape of her bra. As steam filled the shower, he gripped his already hard cock and started to pump—imagining her perfect pink lips and tongue as she licked frozen yogurt off her spoon. He imagined that mouth on his own lips, kissing his neck, wrapped around his cock. “Granger,” he grunted as he came, painting the tile with his spend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rose gifts Hermione sugar quills in this chapter. I don't know if she actually likes them in canon, but this was a shoutout to [Lovesbitca8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovesBitca8/pseuds/LovesBitca8) and her amazing Dramione series [Rights and Wrongs](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1007625). In All The Wrong Things, Draco watches Hermione sucking on a sugar quill and has some feelings about it. It's pretty much canon to me now.
> 
> If you're one of the Reylos who has followed me into the Dramione bin, please check it out-- you won't be disappointed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here we are again! Hope you enjoy this chapter as we ramp up the tension a little more. Thanks as always to my illustrious beta, raven_maiden.

Hermione looked up from her scroll on Floo Network traffic and a possible Floo powder tax and stared at Draco. His robes today were charcoal, which stood out quite a bit, given that he always wore black.  And either he had been working out or they were tailored more tightly—because she was seeing arm definition she hadn’t noticed before. His head was down, reading his own documents: more Muggle permits to straighten out with the PM. A lock of hair had fallen in his eye and it was driving her nuts. If the desk weren’t between them, she might be tempted to brush it back for him.

Tempted, that is. Of course she wouldn’t actually do it.

“Care to take a picture, Granger?”

“Hmm?”  Shit, he’d caught her. 

“You’re staring. It’s not polite.”

She cleared her throat. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

He looked up, his hair falling back into place. “What?”

“Your—never mind.”

He sighed. “Granger, you’re no easier to understand than a sphinx. And I have a teenage son.”

“That’s not true!” she sputtered.

“It is. It’s not your fault that big, beautiful brain of yours works much faster than the rest of ours, but I’m afraid you’re an enigma to us mere mortals.” He grinned.

“Quit making fun of me.”

“Not a chance. Now, would you care to grab some tea with me before this stupid meeting?”

She had nearly forgotten about their meeting to choose the new British chairperson for the International Confederation of Wizards. _Stop being so bloody distracted_ , she berated herself. For what felt like the hundredth time that week, she found herself asking what had gotten into her.  

 

* * *

 

Draco took full advantage of his vantage point in the seat across from Hermione as they listened to the different members extol the virtues of their chosen candidates for chairperson. They had dossiers in front of them of the different candidates, five in all. 

He couldn’t be arsed to care. Granger was currently twirling a lock of hair around her finger, which was infinitely more interesting than anything these idiots had to say. He watched the chestnut strands curl around her delicate skin and wondered what it would feel like to have those hands on him. 

_ Not the time _ . He cleared his throat and tried to focus. 

It was useless, though. Every time he thought he could absorb more than 3 sentences, she would do something else—like bite her lip, play with her necklace, or drum her fingers on the table. He had had about 50 different dirty scenarios play out in his mind by the time the meeting was over and made sure to wait a beat longer than everyone else before getting up, lest everyone else notice how much he enjoyed the meeting as well.

He hurried back to his office without even looking at Hermione. 

He startled when he found Harry waiting for him inside. “Potter.”

“Malfoy. It’s been a while since we’ve met for lunch. Hermione keeping you busy?”

_ Boy was she ever _ .  _ At work _ .  _ At night. First thing in the morning. _ Not that he needed to know that. “Indeed. She has me tied up from start to finish most days. But I can set aside some time if I plan for it.”

“Well, how about tomorrow then?”

“Works for me.”

“Excellent.” He rose from his chair and saw himself out, giving Draco a firm pat on the shoulder as he passed. “I’m glad I vouched for you. She says you’ve been absolutely brilliant so far.”

“Did she now? Well, can’t say I’m surprised.” He winked.

“There he is,” Harry quipped, already advancing down the hall.

Draco dug his finger into his collar to release a little of the pressure. He wondered if his neck looked as flushed as it felt. Granger had been complimenting him to Potter? Would the wonders of this job never cease?

 

* * *

 

Hermione was just getting ready to leave for the day when Harry passed by her office. He backed up when he saw her gathering her things and waltzed in. “How are things?”

She smiled at him as she slipped on her coat. “Good. I’m far less frazzled now that Draco’s been picking up my slack.”

“I see you’ve managed not to kill each other yet.”

_ Actually, things are quite tense between us, but probably not in the way you’re thinking _ , she privately deadpanned. “He’s been great, actually. Still a sarcastic prat on occasion, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“Good.”

“How was Easter? I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. Did the kids come back?”

“They did, and it was pretty great, actually. Albus has been a lot happier lately—we even had Scorpius over a few times, so that helped.”

“Those two are pretty inseparable, huh?”

“Oh yeah. Worse than me and Ron.”

“Have you—spoken to Ron lately?”

“Mmhmm. He’s doing well, I think.”

“Oh that’s good.” She breathed a little sigh of relief. “By the way, I’m free Friday night if you and Ginny want to come to my new flat for dinner. I’ll cook if you bring the wine.”

“You? Cook?”

Hermione bristled. Just because Ron did most of the cooking when they were married didn’t mean that she was useless in the kitchen. “I’ll have you know that I’m a perfectly capable cook!”

He eyed her for a moment. “Remember when we spent months camping in the forest, looking for Horcruxes?”

“I was a teenager, Harry! None of us could cook!”

He just shrugged, like nothing had changed in 23 years.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll have takeaway as a back up. But I  _ can  _ cook now.”

Harry chuckled. “I’ll check with Ginny, but we should have no trouble doing Friday.”

Hermione smiled as they walked out together.

 

* * *

 

“Blaise. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Draco had barely gotten home from work when his friend came calling.

“I can’t just pay my buddy a social visit?”

Draco rolled his eyes. It was rarely ever  _ just _ a social visit with Blaise. “You can, but you never do. Firewhisky?”

“Please.”

They strolled into the sitting room. Draco picked up the decanter on the bar and poured them each a glass of the amber liquid. He handed a glass to Blaise and gestured for him to take a seat. “So, what did you want to  _ socialize _ about?”

“Derwin McNair. He’s a close associate of mine. It might be helpful if you were to choose him for chairperson.” 

There it was. Draco had been afraid something like this might be a possibility when Zabini had so flippantly offered to nominate him for advisor. He wanted a favor. “No relation to  _ the _ MacNair family, I assume?”

“No, different spelling. Though it wouldn’t be the first time someone has made the association and he’s suffered for it.”

“And I’m sure you’d find it extremely advantageous to have a friend on the International Confederation.”

“Naturally.” Blaise smirked around his next sip of Firewhisky.

“Is that the only reason you nominated me? Because you think I’ll be some kind of puppet?”

“Calm down; it’s just a favor, Drake. No need to get offended. I just thought if you could  _ encourage _ the Minister towards McNair, it might be mutually beneficial for us.”

Draco scowled. “Perhaps you thought wrong.I’m reviewing the candidates based on merit and will recommend the best choice to the Minister. I don’t pull favors like that, Blaise.”

A shadow seemed to pass over his face, but he quickly recovered. “She’s already got you whipped, hasn’t she?”

“You want to rephrase your question,  _ old friend _ ?” Heat rose to his face. He didn’t like where this was going at all.

“I know you’ve always had a soft spot for Granger—it’s partially why I thought of you for the position, which you’ve never actually thanked me for. But I confess I never thought you’d succumb to her  _ charms _ this quickly.”

“Watch yourself, Zabini.” He was out of his seat now. “Don’t think I don’t know that I was the only person to even agree to the advisor position. Quit pretending like you handed me some great opportunity people were tripping over themselves to get. As for the Minister, I’m not her slave. I have a mind of my own, as you well know. There’s give and take.”

“And tell me, how good of a shag is she?”

He was across the room, his wand directly pointed at Blaise’s throat before the other wizard could even set down his glass. “Don’t talk about her like that,” he hissed. Things between Granger and I are strictly professional.”

Blaise swallowed and set his glass down on the side table. “Yes, I can see that. You should know that it’s against the law for the Minister and her advisor to be involved. If there  _ were _ anything going on, you could lose your job—or worse.”

Images of Azkaban floated into his mind. His blood ran cold. Draco swallowed and slowly lowered his wand. “I think you’d better leave.”

Blaise rose and headed toward the fireplace. “Couldn’t agree more.” He took a handful of Floo powder and looked back. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Drake.” Then he was through the green flames.

Once he was gone, Draco poured himself another drink and sank down into the chair.  _ Bloody wanker _ . How dare Blaise barge into his own home, uninvited, demanding favors and slinging  unfounded accusations about him and Hermione? Though, if he was being honest with himself, Draco had to admit that he had been thinking about doing exactly what Blaise had accused them of—a lot. And he was hoping that she had been thinking about it, too. 

He wanted to help her with her workload so she didn’t look so bloody exhausted all the time. So she’d be free to do what she did best. He wanted to protect her from ugly headlines and prying snakes like Blaise. But he also just wanted  _ her _ , period. 

Draco wasn’t even sure what kind of game he was playing anymore. When it came to Hermione Granger, he wasn’t sure if he was capable of making rational decisions. He always wanted more.

 

* * *

 

Draco had been in a foul mood the rest of the week, Hermione noted. He had snapped at her on more than one occasion, and argued over their choice for the International Confederation chairperson for far longer than was necessary. After a half-hearted pitch for McNair, he had reluctantly agreed to Trevor Watson, clearly the most capable and least problematic of the bunch.

On Thursday, he had seemed only marginally better, the dragon inside seething beneath the surface. She begrudgingly admitted to herself that brooding suited him. He was back in black, and running his long fingers through his shorter hair, making quite the mess of it. She idly wondered how soft it was as he gave her the rundown of his meeting with the Muggle PM. Hermione was forever grateful that he had taken that unpleasant responsibility off her hands. The woman had it out for her since day one and seemed to prefer Draco anyway. She yawned as he mentioned something about construction near the Ministry entrance.

He immediately broke off. “Am I boring you, Granger?” he drawled.

“I’m sorry. Must have not gotten enough sleep last night.” She had been a little restless lately. Her bed was quite comfortable and it was nice to have all that extra space, but truth be told, she missed sleeping next to someone—having the comforting reassurance of a warm body besides her own. Maybe it was time to get another cat. After all, Crookshanks had been gone for several years now.

He frowned slightly. “Well, you should try to get more rest tonight.” 

“What’s this—concerned for my well being?” she quipped.

“Yes. As your advisor, part of my duty is to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

It was a perfectly reasonable response, but she found herself blushing anyway. “Right. I’ll try to go to bed earlier tonight.”

“Good.”

By the time Friday rolled around, Draco was in much better spirits, bringing her tea again before their scheduled meeting. She didn’t want to acknowledge it, but somewhere along the way, she had started to look forward to their daily meetings. He had become a constant in her life, and though he sometimes got on her nerves—she was used to his company by now.

That’s all it was, really. She’d grown accustomed to him. That’s why meeting with him was usually the highlight of her day. Comfort in the familiar, and all. 

“Any plans for the weekend?” he asked as she perused the new issue of the  _ Prophet _ . It was another unspoken ritual that had emerged between them—they now shared the paper each day as they drank their tea. He even came early so they could read in silence for a few minutes before getting down to business. She told herself that there was nothing domestic about it. 

Hermione glanced up at him over her paper. This was the first he had inquired after her weekend plans. “Actually, I’m having Harry and Ginny over for dinner tonight.” There was an awkward pause as she considered possibly inviting him, but then decided against it. They weren’t  _ that _ close, were they? And was that even appropriate? “How about you?”

Draco shrugged. “My mother’s been trying to set me up with the eligible witches she knows. She thinks it’s time I started dating again.” His tone was carefully noncommittal, but he studied her for a reaction. It was only partially true—Narcissa had mentioned it once, in passing. But Hermione didn’t need to know that.

“Oh?” She cleared her throat—and was that a flash of pink? “Anyone I know?”

“Probably not, but I’m trying to get out of it. I’m not really interested in anyone my mother would approve of. I’m not even sure if I’m ready to date again.” This part was mostly true. He wasn’t totally sure, but he knew the only witch he  _ was _ interested in was sitting right in front of him.

“It can be difficult. When Rose was home she told me that Ron had already been on a date.”

Draco nearly choked on his tea but quickly took another sip, concealing it. That, he did not expect. He would have thought the Weasel would be pining away, growing fatter—not moving on with the first floozy that was attracted by his fame. How anyone could let someone like Granger get away in the first place was a foreign concept to him. “And how do you feel about that?”

She frowned. “I’m not sure how to feel. I’m the one who wanted the divorce, but it doesn’t seem fair that he should be the one to move on first. I suppose that’s pretty selfish of me.”

That was stupid. Hermione Granger, selfish? The champion of house elves and werewolves and every other disadvantaged group known to wizards or Muggles? He’d have to disabuse her of the notion. “You can’t be serious. Hermione, you’ve done everything for everyone else your entire life. When was the last time you made a purely selfish decision? I think you deserve to put yourself first for a change. And your feelings are completely valid—but then again, you know my feelings towards your ex-husband.”

“I believe I do, yes.” She smiled at him anyway.

He abruptly changed the subject to business after that, but Hermione would think about his words for the rest of the day.

 

* * *

 

When she stopped to look in the mirror for the first time since starting her preparations, Hermione nearly let out a scream. The heat and humidity from all her cooking had caused her hair to go completely bonkers. She wore a camisole and her good jeans, an apron protecting her from any splatter. She planned to put on her blouse when her guests arrived. 

She pumped some anti-frizz serum into her hands before trying to smooth out the craziness. It was no use, unfortunately. She grabbed a clip from the drawer and twisted her mane into a quick updo.

There was a bottle of red wine sitting atop the kitchen counter, a bottle of white in the fridge, and a brie baking inside a nice crisp crust in the oven. She had followed the recipe for chicken francaise meticulously and left it to simmer for a few before it would be done. A deep sense of satisfaction swept through her at seeing how close to the picture it looked—she had never been much for cooking, leaving Ron to do most of it as she was always home late. But it seemed if she had detailed enough instructions, she could excel at this just like anything else. The table was set, soft jazz played in the background, and all that was left to do was to throw on her blouse.

It was sheer and grey, reminding her a little of Draco’s eyes. _Oh for crying out loud, c_ _ an I not think about him right now? _ She fiddled with the ties on her sleeves and tried to forget her advisor, at least for the moment. Even if he had looked particularly handsome today. She was interrupted from her thoughts by the sound of her doorbell and went to let Harry and Ginny in.

“Hermione, dear! It’s been too long!” Ginny kissed her on the cheek as she came inside. They had brought a bottle of wine as well. 

_ Let’s not get too sauced tonight _ . Merlin knew she had a loose tongue when drinking, and Draco Malfoy was already at the forefront of her consciousness. “It has! I’m so glad you could come.”

Harry gave her a hug as well. She took both of their coats to hang up and gave them a quick tour of her new flat. Afterward, she led them back into the kitchen for a glass of wine and some baked brie.

“So how are things at work?” Ginny asked.

Harry offered her a slight smile in encouragement.

“Great, actually.” Hermione responded. “I’ve been able to get so much more done since having an advisor. I was hesitant at first, but Draco has been more than adequate.”

“Oh it’s ‘Draco’ now, is it? Harry still calls him Malfoy.” Ginny’s tone was teasing, but light.

“Yes, well. Hermione sees him a lot more than I do, doesn’t she?” Harry pulled his glasses off to wipe at a smudge, totally nonplussed that his best friend and former enemy had grown quite close.

It seemed that having their sons become best friends was the ideal scenario for repairing the bad blood between Harry and Draco. Hermione never would’ve thought that day would come.

“True. Is it terribly awkward having to meet with him every day?” Ginny asked.

  
“No, I’ve gotten used to him by now,” Hermione replied. She sipped her wine.“He’s definitely changed for the better. I think fatherhood really helped.”

Harry nodded slightly. 

“Well, enough about work. Had a good shag recently?” Ginny asked, smiling widely.

Harry choked on his wine.

 

* * *

 

Draco poured himself a glass of Firewhisky and stared into the flames of his fireplace. His encounter with Blaise had been disconcerting to say the least. He’d have to keep an eye on his slippery “friend.” Surely there was a way to keep his job and still get what he ultimately wanted—which was what, exactly? 

Draco sighed, running his free hand through his hair. He had to admit that he wanted more than a night of passion. He wanted her body, yes, but he craved something  _ more _ —companionship, intimacy, a relationship.

He missed coming home to someone, waking up next to someone. And increasingly, when he tried to imagine who that someone might be, she had chocolate eyes and unruly curls. Now that Blaise had told him it was against the law—something he supposed he had already known, deep down—she was somehow even more tempting. She had been forbidden fruit for as long as he’d known her, but now she was the most glittering apple on the tree, and he was the snake in the garden. Merlin, he was half hard just thinking about it.

Before he knew it, the bottle of firewhisky was half gone and he was moving to unbuckle his belt as images of Hermione writhing beneath him flooded his head. His hand wandered into his briefs as he freed himself and began to stroke. He hadn’t wanked so much since his Hogwarts days, but she was turning him back into a horny teenager at 38. As impressed as his younger self might have been at his current stamina, having only his hand for company was getting old.

Something had to give… and soon.

 

* * *

 

Hermione sighed as she wiped the counters down. It had been nice spending the evening with Harry and Ginny—though seeing how clearly in love they were after all these years did little to soothe her aching heart. She missed sleeping beside someone, having the constant comfort of another living soul in the house, even if they were engaged in separate activities. But most of all, she missed intimacy—not just sex, but being so close to another person that you let them see your truest self. If she were being completely honest, she wasn’t sure if she ever had that level of intimacy with Ron.

Between the three of them tonight, they had polished off 2 bottles of wine. She was feeling heated and flushed from the alcohol, but also from thinking about being intimate with someone again. She might be ovulating…

As she readied herself for bed, she remembered a spell. It was one Alicia Spinnet had taught her and a group of Gryffindor girls back in her fifth year. She had only ever used it once, and it had been so long since she’d even thought about it. It was, in a sense, conjuring an invisible lover. It would give the caster the feel and weight of a body on top of—and inside of—them. The only other time she had used it was before she and Ron got together, as a way of preparing herself. Hermione had always liked to do research ahead of time. When they had finally begun having sex, however, she almost wished she hadn’t, as the invisible lover spell lasted until the caster achieved orgasm. The same was not always true of a flesh and blood person, as Hermione had learned with Ron. 

She crawled beneath the covers and caressed the silk nightgown she had on, drawing the ends of it up over her hips to pool at her stomach. She wasn’t wearing any knickers. Closing her eyes, she started to imagine a man—kissing and stroking her hair, running his tongue over her pulse points, tweaking her nipples. She squeezed her breasts gently, imagining long fingers doing the same. She moaned when she dipped her finger into her folds and found herself wet already. Then, grabbing her wand from the nightstand, she cast the spell. Immediately it felt like there was someone on top of her, sliding in with one smooth stroke. Hermione groaned at the feeling of being stretched—it had been so long. She closed her eyes as her imaginary lover began to thrust. The pressure and friction was real, but it lacked a physical warmth. She tried to ignore that aspect as she thought of the man she wanted on top of her—someone with strong arms and sharp features. 

She gasped as the invisible man hit her deeply and thought about threading her fingers through his hair, his very light blonde hair. She was on the verge now, her back arching off the mattress in time with the unseen lover’s movements, each more pleasurable than the last. It wasn’t until she finally climaxed, imagining a pair of grey eyes boring into hers and crying out his name into her dark room, that she realized who she had been picturing this whole time.  _ Draco _ .

The spell ended and Hermione was bereft of the weight, no sensation of sliding out, no cuddling after. She almost felt more lonely than before, now accepting who she wished was here holding her in a post-coital haze.

She had the hots for Draco Malfoy.  _ Fuck _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be taking off next week from updating since I will be at Star Wars Celebration in Chicago. Next update will be 4/21! (I promise it will be worth the wait...)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for being so patient while I took a week off! I hope this chapter will be worth it, wink wink.
> 
> As always, my beta raven_maiden made this even better!

It was unbearable. Hermione was biting on the end of her quill and if he had to stare at her perfect lips wrapped around it for one more minute, he was going to fling himself across the desk and kiss her silly. He couldn’t help but wonder how those lips would feel around—

His lascivious thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. 

Harry poked his head in. “We still on for lunch, Malfoy?”

“Right. Bloody hell, I forgot.” The truth was that he’d been so interested in staring at Granger all morning that he’d completely lost track of time. He couldn’t believe it was already noon. 

“I looked for you in your office first, but you weren’t there.”

Hermione started as she finally noticed him. “Hi, Harry!”

“Hey, Hermione. I thought you two met earlier in the morning?”

“Oh we do, but we got caught up doing some work and just lost track of time, I guess.”

“Hmm.” Harry scratched at his stubble, his green eyes a little brighter and more inquisitive than usual. Hermione shifted nervously in her seat. “Do you want to join us for lunch?” he asked.

“I can’t, but thanks for inviting me.  I have lunch plans with Luna, actually.”

Harry lit up at the mention of their former classmate. “Oh? How is she?”

“Good, I think. She has a unicorn reintroduction bill she wants me to take a look at.”

“Fascinating.”

Draco reluctantly got out of his seat and waited in the doorway. “Shall we, Potter?”

“We shall. Have fun with Luna, Hermione—tell her I said hi.”

“I will. You boys behave!”

Draco’s stomach flipped when she referred to him as a ‘boy’—did that mean he’d finally made it? That he now counted along with Harry Potter as one of  _ her _ boys? He wasn’t sure if it was significant.

“You okay, Malfoy?” Harry asked as they made their way to the lift.

“Never better. Why?”

“You just looked a little flushed for a moment, that’s all.” Harry had a faint smirk on his lips, and Draco had the sinking feeling that he was suspicious about something. Sometimes, he could absolutely believe the Sorting Hat had almost put the Boy Who Lived in Slytherin.

 

* * *

 

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief after Draco and Harry left. She was getting so comfortable around her advisor that they had accidentally spent the whole morning together. After their daily meeting, he hadn’t just gotten up and left. They had fallen into a companionable silence, each reviewing their work for the day, and before she knew it, hours had passed and Harry had come knocking.

Well, perhaps it hadn’t been completely comfortable the  _ entire  _ time—she had looked up maybe once or twice (or a few more times) to see his fringe in his eye and had the distinct desire to push it back for him. And maybe trail her finger down his cheek and neck to rest on his firm chest, too. But that was neither here nor there. It was inappropriate. He was her advisor. More importantly, he was still Draco Malfoy. He’d lost his bullying ways, but just because he was decent to her these days didn’t mean he’d want her hands on him. There was no way the interest was mutual—right?

“Sickle for your thoughts?” A whimsical voice jarred her out of her reverie.

“Luna! I didn’t hear you come in.”

The blonde witch regarded her curiously for a moment. “I don’t suppose you did—you were very far away.”

Hermione loved her friend and former classmate, but her preternatural sense was mildly disturbing at times. “Yes, I guess I was. Why don’t we get going?”

They wound up at a cafe not far from the Ministry where many employees went for lunch. It was quick and the food was good, so it was an easy option. Thankfully, Harry and Draco had chosen somewhere else to go.

“So why don’t you tell me more about your proposed unicorn reintegration program?” 

“Oh, I have it all written down for you.” Luna produced a scroll that was done in neat, clear handwriting. It detailed her plans for unicorn breeding and certain drop points where the new populations would be released back into the wild. It was very thorough—Hermione almost had an intellectual orgasm just from looking it over.

“This is wonderful—so detailed!” She took a bite of her chicken pesto sandwich as she finished perusing.

“Thank you! Rolf helped me with some of it.” Luna and her husband, Rolf Scamander, were both magizoologists. They had already helped save a few endangered magical species in the past decade or so.

“Well, I don’t think you’ll have a problem passing this at all. I’ll bring it to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and tell them it takes top priority.”

Her light blue eyes lit up with excitement. “I’m very happy you think so. That would be fantastic.” She dug back in to her vegetable soup with a dreamy expression on her face. “Once our unicorn efforts are underway, we can get back to looking for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks,” she added seriously. 

Hermione smiled politely and said nothing.  

They ate quietly for a few minutes. Hermione’s thoughts quickly wandered back to Draco and how delectable he looked today. He was wearing mostly black, per usual, but he had on a sharp emerald tie which somehow made his eyes look more silver than grey—very Slytherin.

“You’ve gone away again. Same place, I assume?”

Hermione felt heat flush up her neck and prayed Luna wouldn’t notice. “Erm—I suppose.”

Luna smiled. “You know, I was sorry to hear about you and Ron. My father used to say, ‘A centaur and a selkie might fall in love, but where would they make their home?’”

Hermione laughed. It was a funny saying, but the sentiment fit. “Fair enough.”

“So who is he?”

Hermione forced herself to swallow the bite of sandwich she narrowly avoided choking on. “Who’s who now?”

“The new man who’s got your thoughts all in a tizzy? Your aura is different, brighter. You also have a very heightened sexual energy about you.”

Hermione was mortified. She didn’t put much stock in divination or the “Sight,” but Luna was veering dangerously close to the truth she’d only just discovered for herself. “ _ Excuse _ me?”

“Oh it’s nothing to be ashamed of, Hermione. But the wizard you’re thinking of—I can tell it’s reciprocal.” She looked at the air around Hermione, nodding to herself as if confirming a hunch. “I think you should go for it.”

“Right. Well, thanks then—for your program proposal and the uh, advice.” 

Luna gave her another whimsical smile as she finished off the last few bites of her soup. Hermione remained silent until they said their goodbyes.

 

* * *

 

Draco barely listened to a word Potter said as they ate their lunch. He was yammering on about Albus’s concern for his OWLs and career counseling, which had Harry very stressed, as he didn’t think his son should follow in his footsteps of becoming an Auror. Draco was lucky on that front—Scorpius loved to study and knew exactly what he wanted to do in life. He wanted to be a pioneer in wizard publishing and create his own graphic novels. These were largely based off of the Muggle ones he read, but they would have heroes tailored more for magical folk with illustrations that moved, of course.

It was a prime example of Slytherin ambition, but seeing as he didn’t even need to work at all, Draco was immensely proud of his son’s endeavors. He already had a knack for drawing. He even wanted to take some Muggle business courses after Hogwarts, just to round out his learning experience.

Try as he might, he couldn’t be persuaded to listen to Potter’s woes. All he could think about was how Hermione’s fawn colored robes hugged her supple curves and how he could have sworn she was wearing tinted lip gloss today, her mouth looking especially appealing. This really was becoming a problem.

“Earth to Malfoy?” Harry was staring at him.

“Uh… sorry, Potter. I think the monotonous tone of your voice made me zone out for a minute.”

“Ha ha. Nice try, but you haven’t been with me this whole time. Is it work? Do I need to tell Hermione to take it easier on you?”

He laughed. No, in fact he’d like her to go  _ much _ harder. “No, that’s not it. Work is fine. I suppose I haven’t been sleeping all that well.” Because he’d been imagining 50 different ways to give it to Granger… but Potter didn’t need to know that.

Harry looked dubious, but he let it go nonetheless. 

Draco was glad he didn’t cross paths with the Minister for the remainder of the day. He wasn’t sure how much more of this tension he could take today. Now that he had decided to stop fighting whatever this was and put a plan in motion, things weren’t moving nearly fast enough for his liking. He also had to figure out a way to get Blaise off his scent. He could handle his own name being dragged through the mud—after all, it wouldn’t be the first time. But Hermione? He couldn’t bear it if her reputation was tarnished, or worse, because of him.

By the time he got home and had a quick dinner, he was so sodding drained he fell into bed with his clothes still on. Trying to figure out a solution to his Granger problem was emotionally and mentally exhausting. Draco had considered all the possible scenarios that afternoon, even quitting—but he knew he couldn’t do that to Hermione. She was finally getting the help she needed, and if he were being honest, he actually enjoyed the work. 

His thoughts took a dark turn. Here he was, a grown man, resigned to pining over this woman like a lovesick teenager. He didn’t even know how she felt about him. Maybe giving himself hope and trying to win her affections was the wrong course of action to take. Even if she did blush at his compliments or think he was fit, it didn’t mean she’d want to enter into a lurid, secret affair with him. This was Hermione Granger, after all. The queen of no-nonsense rule following. She was too responsible for her own good. Perhaps he’d been foolish to think she could ever see him as anything more than a colleague, and he was completely alone in his interest. 

He undressed and climbed under the covers, now as wounded as he was exhausted. He needed to forget about his feelings, or at least bury them deeper until he could. That’s what he resolved to do—for his sake and hers. He’d build up his walls again and let go of the ridiculous notion that there could ever be anything between them. A decision reached at last, he slept better than he had all week.

 

* * *

 

It worked just fine—at first. He started practicing Occlumency again, gathering up all his thoughts and shoving them back into their assigned places. He imagined it a bit like a puzzle cube, with each section harboring a different secret he didn’t want anyone else to know. He’d twist them round until they fit and then scramble them again, making sure no one could pry inside.

Except Hermione took up so much of his cube. He found her leaking over into every part of his life—he worked with her, his son went to school with her daughter, she had the same acquaintances and friends. She was impossible to avoid.

The more he tried to compartmentalize her, the lonelier he felt. And he was certain she’d noticed his detachment. He had stopped bringing her tea in the morning, letting Sally resume her normal duties. He kept an eye on the clock so their meetings wouldn’t run over. He didn’t tease her as much. He tried to ignore the pit in his stomach and told himself that it was for the best. For both of them.

“Is something wrong, Draco?” she asked him one morning, her eyes cautious and inquiring.

“No, not at all. Why?” A muscle in his cheek twitched. He didn’t particularly like lying to her, but there was no way around it.

Hermione studied her advisor. He had been acting strangely all week. Not that she didn’t still want to snog the living daylights out of him—it was almost worse when he was broody like this, because it made her inner Gryffindor want to help him. Fix him. “You just seem… distant.” As soon as the words left her lips, she realized how much she hated it.

He stared at her for a moment and then looked away with a practiced shrug. “A lot on my mind, I guess.”  _ Like trying to forget about how badly I want you _ .

“Oh. Alright, then. Just making sure.” She went back to her paperwork, deflated.

By the time Hermione made it home, she was on the verge of tears. Her easy camaraderie with Draco seemed to be on the fritz, and she didn’t know why. Or how to fix it. Or why she cared so much. She sank down into her sofa and let the tears fall. Maybe she was hormonal—it was about to be that time of the month soon. Maybe it was just stress. There were a few important things on the docket for next week and she was anxious. 

She let herself pretend that was all. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione impatiently drummed her fingers on her desk. The werewolf reform she had worked so hard on during her early days at the Ministry was up for renewal, and she wanted to add provisions for employers to provide Wolfsbane free of charge to their affected employees. This, however, brought up the subject of disclosure. She and Malfoy had been arguing about it for nearly fifteen minutes now.

“It’s a breach of privacy, Granger. You can’t just expect all werewolves to just out themselves like that—it’s like reinstituting the bloody registry!” He was quite riled up about the subject, but his anger was a welcome change from his aloofness the week before. And she had to admit that passionate anger suited him.

Hermione tried to appear calm as the heat rose to her cheeks. Hopefully he’d think she was just angry, too, as opposed to battling her raging attraction for him. “They’ll only have to disclose to upper management in order for it to be added to their current healthcare plan. Sharing the information with other employees is strictly prohibited.”

“Your fine print doesn’t matter. Confidentiality goes out the window when people fear for their safety. Anti-werewolf bias is rampant, Granger. You’re really counting on the discretion of the average business owner?” He shook his head. “The laws you already have in place are more than adequate. If you add something to this, it’s going to get held up for months. You really want to risk that?”

She bristled in genuine frustration this time. “It’s worth the risk if it gives impoverished werewolves access to reasonable care!”

“You bloody well  _ would _ think that. Some things are worth more than money or health. Many of these people have children. You really want to expose them to that kind of scrutiny?” Draco clenched his jaw. He knew what it was like for a child to be punished for the perceived sins of their parents, and he’d be damned if he stood by and let  it happen on his watch .

“Who said anything about exposing them? We  _ can _ limit unauthorized disclosures. We could strengthen the privacy clauses and penalties in the addendum—”

Draco gave her a patronizing look, like she was impossibly naive. She despised those looks, even though they usually meant that she’d overlooked something glaring.

“Don’t.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t what?”

“Look at me like I’m still that naive schoolgirl trying to save the world.”

He smirked. “Aren’t you?”

Hermione stood up from the desk and marched around to face him. She muttered a silencing charm at the door. “As the fucking Minister for Magic, I think I know what’s best for my constituents!”

He sprang out of his chair  to meet her, and she scowled at the way he towered over her. It wasn’t just the height, but the way he held himself—like the air really  _ was _ better up there, despite the mere 7 inches separating them. 

“As your  _ advisor _ ,” he retorted, raising his voice to match hers, “I’m supposed to be looking out for  _ you _ ! And for being the bloody Minister, sometimes you’re really  _ shit _ at politics!” He stared down at her, breathing heavily. “This isn’t a course project where you can tick all your little boxes, Granger. This is the real world. Things can and often do go to shit. You can’t save everybody.”    

Her eyes flashed. “Don’t do that thing where you act like you know me better than I know myself!”

He laughed. She startled at the sound and furiously opened her mouth, but her rebuke died in her throat as he leaned in closer. “Ah, but I do.” The look in his eyes was almost predatory, and she shivered in spite of herself. “If you would take the weight of the world off your shoulders for one  _ fucking  _ second, you would see that not everything has to be an uphill battle! Politics are messy—there’s no such thing as a perfect solution. Leading well means picking the right battles. And the wizarding world will keep on spinning even without Hermione Granger breaking her back to keep turning the crank!”

Her blood was boiling. She held the highest political office in Wizarding Britain—how dare he talk to her about leadership! She raised her hand to slap him but he caught it with a few centimeters to spare. She tried to yank it out of his grasp, but he wouldn’t release her wrist. His grey eyes bored into hers as they stood there silently, flushed and panting.  

Later, Hermione wouldn’t have been able to say who made the first move. She’d like to say it was Draco, but it would have happened either way. Regardless, their heated standoff only lasted several seconds before they converged, unable to resist the pull any longer. Their lips crashed together as furiously as their words had only moments before, and Hermione gasped as Draco’s tongue entered her mouth. 

It was sloppy kissing: half passionate snogging and half breathing into each other’s mouths like they couldn’t possibly get close enough. Her fists gripped his robes tightly and his hands slid down to her arse, fingertips digging in hard enough to bruise. He hoisted her up onto the desk with a moan, her legs instantly parting for him to stand between. “Granger,” he growled as he yanked her flush against him.

Hermione gasped at the sensation of his insistent hardness rubbing against her core, overcome by the need to feel him inside her—right fucking  _ now _ . “Draco, please.”

He rucked her skirts up, hands running up the length of her thighs. She mentally cursed her decision to wear stockings today, but at least she had foregone knickers, as the stockings were full coverage. Her breaths came in heavy pants as Draco’s thumb brushed over her damp center. He drew a shuddered breath.  “What—” he asked between kisses, “ —are we going to do about this?”

He had meant the situation— _ them _ —but she took it more literally. “Rip them.”

His lips released hers for a moment. He stared at them, now swollen and red. Just like his. “What?”

“The stockings. Just rip them.” Her voice was full of desperation, which she might have been more embarrassed about if she wasn’t so sodding ready.

The sound of the flimsy fabric tearing filled her office for a few brief seconds as Draco tore the material wide open, his elegant fingers prying the black, sheer tights apart to reveal her glistening cunt. “Fuck,” he whispered as he dragged two fingers through her sopping folds.

Hermione bit her lip to keep from moaning and nodded her head against his shoulder as he released his cock from his trousers. “Yes— _ fuck _ yes.”

  
He pushed into her with a single sharp thrust. They groaned in unison as he filled her up. 

Draco stilled a moment. It had been ages for him—and likely for her, too, judging by how tight she was. His vision nearly whited out with pleasure when her walls fluttered around him. He couldn’t believe this was finally happening.

She waited for him to move, enjoying the stretch. It was a bit more than she was used to, but oh so good. It had been too damn long. And then he moved. She threw her head back with a guttural sound as his hips rolled into her. It was hot and fast and exactly what she needed.

Draco felt like a randy teenager getting his dick wet for the first time. Only it was a thousand times better than anything he’d experienced when he was younger. He lost all self control as he frantically pounded into Hermione’s velvety heat, again and again. Why had they waited so long to do this?

Hermione dug her nails into his back as he drove into her with gusto. She was so keyed up, she was already on the edge just from his thrusts. The feel of him dragging against her tight walls was divine and her eyes rolled back as her breathing grew ragged. “Draco,” she moaned.

He was close, but he couldn’t come first—how bloody embarrassing would that be? He moved one of his hands from where he was holding her firmly on the desk around to her front and applied gentle pressure on her clit, stroking her in haphazard patterns.

“Fuck,” she whined, locking her ankles behind him and bucking her hips in tandem with his. 

He could feel slight tremors starting and smirked as he latched onto a spot just below her ear. He nipped at her skin while she moaned and stuttered around him. When she fell apart, it was beautiful, her wild hair moving as she called his name— _ his name _ . How long had he waited to hear her say it like this? She clenched him tightly as she rode out her orgasm, drawing him to completion as well, his thrusts becoming erratic as he spilled into her. “Hermione,” he breathed against the shell of her ear as she milked his every last drop.

Draco smoothed the sweat dampened hair back from her face and let his lips rest against her temple as his body stilled inside her.  _ What have we done? _ His thoughts quickly spiraled before he could corral them—it had been spectacular, breathtaking even—but had it been a mistake?

Silently, they let their breathing return to normal, staring at each other. Then he slipped out of her slowly, tucking himself back in. He cast a quick  _ Scourgify _ to clean her up as his come dribbled out of her and onto her ruined stockings.

Hermione slid down from the desk, letting her skirts settle. She cleared her throat and said, “Right, so um—”

“Yeah, I guess—”

“Well, then…”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he muttered as he quickly left the room.

When he was gone, she gripped the edge of her desk and squeezed her eyes shut. What in the name of sweet Morgana had just happened?

 

* * *

 

Hermione lay awake in bed that night, replaying it over and over in her head. Just thinking about it got her all hot and bothered, and she had been tempted to touch herself for relief—but she refrained, refusing to let herself get distracted. She was trying to come to terms with the fact that she had fucked Draco Malfoy. And liked it.  _ A lot _ . 

So had he, apparently. She had been driving herself crazy thinking she was the only one with this problem—but today’s circumstances had clearly proved her wrong. The way he had looked at her, said her name, held her tight against him as she came harder than she ever had before… he definitely felt  _ something _ for her. She was certain of it.

For the love of all the was holy, it was the best shag of her life. And way shorter than she would’ve preferred. Sure, she had imagined him taking her on that very desk a number of times, but it was always a longer, more drawn out affair. This had been quick and dirty—and so very hot. She cast a cooling charm on herself and turned over in bed.

Draco was clearly skilled in ways Ron had not been. He was passionate and forceful. She’d never thought much about being sexually adventurous with Ron—their sex life had been perfunctory at best—but after one shag with Draco, she had the burning desire to let him take her every which way and see what new heights they could reach together. She was willing to bet he’d be into exploring with her, if she wanted. If they were to proceed with this, it could be mutually beneficial. Then again, it could be an utter disaster. She tossed in her sheets. She was losing her mind, really. It was explicitly against the rules for her to shag her advisor—she could get sacked.

Continuing this was far too much of a risk. Maybe they could just pretend it never happened. That it was a one-off and now it was out of their systems.

Only she couldn’t forget how it felt to have him inside of her. And how much she desperately wanted to feel it again.

One thing was for sure: tomorrow would be interesting.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's been keeping up with this story! I am woefully behind on answering comments, but hope to get around to it soon. You may have noticed I have an estimated chapter count up now... this is subject to change but I wanted to give you guys a bit of an idea as to how much there is left!
> 
> As always, my undying gratitude to my illustrious beta, raven_maiden!
> 
> Caution: more smut ahead ;)

Hermione had been wrong about things being interesting the next day. As soon as she got settled in the office, Sally came to greet her with tea and to let her know that Mr. Malfoy had taken ill and would not be in the office today.  _ That bastard _ . Maybe he had come to the conclusion that it had been a mistake as well. Merlin, maybe he was ashamed that he had fucked her.

She let her head fall in her hands and groaned. How could she have been so careless? She let her painstakingly built walls fall, and for what—a hot piece of arse? Sure, Draco had been incredible, just like she had imagined, but an excellent shag wasn’t worth it to lose him as an advisor. He had done so much already in the few months he’d been working with her. It would be a shame to go back to the way things were before.

Her day was noticeably more boring without their witty banter and the sound of his clever drawl as he teased her with offhand remarks about her clothes or hair. By the end of the day, she was a mess of nerves not knowing what to think about his absence. She had picked up her quill to owl him multiple times, but every time, she had ended up putting it back down. It was pointless—she didn’t know what to say. She resolved that the next time she saw him, she’d apologize and ask if they could just pretend nothing happened.

 

* * *

 

Sunlight streamed in through the curtain, shining directly on Draco’s face. Wait… that shouldn’t be.

“Master shouldn’t sleep all day. Mistress Cissy is concerned.”

“Tilly, close the fucking curtain!”

“Mistress said Master Draco should come have tea and stop moping.”

“Tilly—”

“She said ‘say exactly these words, Tilly.’ So Tilly says just as Mistress commands.”

Draco groaned as the house elf continued opening his curtains as the reality of yesterday’s events hit him full force. Bugger it all, why couldn’t he just have kept his dick in his pants? He had replayed it over and over in his head last night, even wanking to the memory of her coming around his cock. She was—he didn’t think they had invented a word to describe it. It was certainly the best shag of his life, and he didn’t think he could go into the office and face her, wondering if she had thought it was a mistake—that he might never get to feel her tight heat clenching around him again. He didn’t think he could handle that, so he owled as soon as he woke that he was ill.

It wasn’t a complete lie. He had drunk himself into quite the stupor last night and now was suffering from a pretty severe hangover, the likes of which he’d not seen since his early 20s. He’d have to go down to the lab and brew himself a hangover potion. It had been years since he’d needed one.

Once he’d made and downed the vile draught, he met his mother for tea in her sitting room. 

“What have you done, Draco?” Narcissa had a way of cutting straight to the bone. On the plus side, she looked better—her skin was more vibrant, and she had a little more plumpness to her cheeks. Maybe she was starting to move on.

“I’m not a child anymore, Mother. I would appreciate you not treat me as such.”

She fixed him with a cold stare. “Oh really? Then what would you call going on an all-night bender and skipping work, if not childish behavior?”

He grimaced. Of course she knew exactly what he’d been up to. It was worthless to assume privacy in a manor where the portraits and house elves liked to talk. He took a deep breath before continuing. “I may have made a mistake with the Minister. And I wasn’t sure if I could face her today.” He didn’t have the strength to lie to her right now. Besides, she was the one person who was always impervious to his Occlumency skills. She didn’t need to know the sordid details.

“I see,” she responded, resting the tips of her fingers on her chin as she studied him. Slowly she started to smile. 

“No—don’t do that.” He hated when she just intrinsically  _ knew  _ things. Especially when they were secrets things… about him.

“I didn’t say a word.” She poured him a cup of tea, still smiling. 

“You didn’t have to.”

“So what are you going to do now?”

“I’m not sure yet. I might take the rest of the week to think about it.”

Narcissa rolled her eyes. “Don’t be an idiot, Draco. I keep tabs on the Ministry as well. No one has seen the Minister as well-rested and happy as she’s been since you started. If you ask me, she’s lucky to have you… in any capacity.”

He smirked slightly. “Thank you, Mother.”

 

* * *

 

Hermione was going bonkers. Sally had informed her that Draco would be out again today, and while it was already Friday, she started to panic. What if there really was something wrong with him? What if he was planning to quit now?

She decided to pluck up the courage and owl him before things got too dire. 

 

> _ Dear Draco, _
> 
>  
> 
> _ I hope you are feeling better. If there is anything you wish to discuss with me, please let me know. You should know that I have really appreciated all your help since you started at the Ministry and I look forward to us continuing to work together, regardless of any bumps we may need to iron out. _
> 
> _ If there is anything I can do to help in your current situation, please let me know. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Yours, _
> 
> _ Hermione _

 

She began fretting again as soon as she sent the letter. She wondered if it was too vague. Too personal. Should she not have signed it “Yours?” Before she could second guess herself further, there was a knock at her door.

“Harry, it’s so good to see you!”

“Hey, Hermione. It’s been awhile since we’ve had time to chat. Want to get lunch?”

Eager for a distraction, she quickly rose from her chair. “That sounds wonderful. I’m famished.”

They wound up at a Muggle pizza place not far from the Ministry. It was nice to be able to talk in peace without having to worry about people eavesdropping on two-thirds of the Golden Trio. Even after all these years, people were still far too interested in any gossip involving Harry Potter and his friends.

“I heard Malfoy was out sick.”

Great, the one topic of conversation she’d been hoping to avoid. “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “I do hope he’s okay.”

“The thing is, I saw him Wednesday afternoon, and he seemed in great shape. Looked uncharacteristically happy, even.” He finished cutting a bite of his pizza and popped it into his mouth, pointing the knife at Hermione. “Weird, right?”

She took a drink of her Pellegrino. Harry had always been suspicious of Malfoy—it didn’t mean he knew what had  _ actually _ happened on Wednesday. “Maybe it was a stomach thing.”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe. But I hope he’s not slacking off. If you need me to beat some sense into him, let me know.”

Hermione smiled. “I think I’m perfectly capable of beating sense into him myself should the need arise.”

Harry grinned. “Too right you are.”

 

* * *

 

Draco had been pacing his study for close to two hours now. He was going crazy—why had he thought calling in again was a good idea? He shuddered to think of what he was putting Hermione through in his absence. She was a textbook over thinker and had probably exhausted a million improbable reasons for him not being present today. Why was he being such a coward?

Truth be told, she had rattled him the other day by letting him do what he’d been dreaming of since the day he started working with her. He was trying to formulate a plan to woo her; then he had all but given up; then they had just fucked like puffskeins on top of her desk. It didn’t make any sense. He knew he needed to talk to her, figure out what it was she wanted—but he was afraid. What if she wanted to just forget it had happened? A tightening in his chest had him breathing harder at the very thought.

Just then, a pecking sounded at his window. It was one of the Ministry owls. He let it in, giving it a treat before removing the bit of parchment from its leg. He reviewed the letter from Hermione and sighed deeply. She had addressed him by his first name only and signed it, “Yours.”

Enough was enough. He’d go to her flat and explain himself tonight. He owed her that much.

 

* * *

 

Draco smoothed out his shirt for the 30th time. He had ridden the lift up to Hermione’s flat after she buzzed him in, and spent the whole time obsessing about his appearance. He had chosen a black jumper and denims, knowing she liked his more Muggle-inspired look.

He took a deep breath and pushed the doorbell. The door swung open and his heart nearly stopped. She was wearing a red dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. It was low-cut in the front, exposing her glorious cleavage. It looked impossibly soft—he was dying to touch it, his fingers tingling with desire. She was also barefoot, her toes painted a pale shade of pink.

He swallowed thickly. “We need to talk.”

She took a step back to let him inside. “Did you get my owl?”

“Yes, thank you.” He turned around as she shut the door. “Merlin, you look ravishing.” Was it him or was she breathing harder than normal, too?

She blushed and he felt relief flood through him that she was still just as affected by him as he was by her. Her eyes grew mischievous as he continued to stare at her.  “Thank you. You look amazing, too. Your bum in jeans is just—”

“Granger, you naughty girl. You’ve been checking out my arse?” He moved closer to her and she slid her hands up his chest. He could feel her palms pressing against him, simultaneously caressing him and holding him at arm’s length.

“Talk first. Why weren’t you at work?”

“I got scared. I thought maybe I had forced us into something you didn’t want—”

“Draco…” 

“And I didn’t want you to fire me, or think it was a mistake, or—I don’t know, Hermione. It’s been a long time since I’ve been intimate with someone.”

“Me too. But you have to admit, it was good, right?”

“ _ Good _ ? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

She lowered her hands from his chest and walked into the kitchen. “Me either. Wine?”

“Please.”

Hermione poured them both a glass of wine and ran through what she had practiced saying nearly a million times today. She hadn’t expected to see Draco tonight, but when he buzzed her flat, she threw caution to the wind and put on her favorite dress. “I think, maybe... we could explore a friends with benefits situation?”

Draco studied her, barely believing his ears. She was suggesting they just shag, without strings? It was very unlike Hermione Granger. More importantly, that wasn’t really what he wanted at all. He wanted her: a relationship, all the mess, the whole nine yards. He arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I mean, we both clearly enjoyed the sex and want to do it again. But I just got divorced, and it  _ is  _ illegal for us to become romantically involved. I figured if we just keep things casual for now and see how it goes—then what’s the harm, really?” She tore her eyes from her wine glass and chanced a look up at him. His expression was intense but unreadable.  _ Please say yes,  _ she silently begged him. 

Draco considered. Of course he wanted more. But if he was being rational about it, what she was offering at the moment  was likely his best option. She had reasons for wanting to be cautious, but in the meantime, she still wanted to work with him  _ and _ shag him. He could live with that… for now. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

He took another gulp of wine and set the glass down on the counter, moving closer to her. “Yes. I’m in, Granger.”

Hermione took another sip of her wine and laughed softly. “You’re so much different than I imagined you’d be.”

He looked solemn for a second. He knew what she was referring to, and there was no way he could ever make it up to her. “I want you to know, that I’m truly sorry for everything that happened in our past. I know I was exceptionally terrible to you in school.”

“That’s in the past.”

“Still. I’m sorry, Hermione.” His thumb absently started to trace over the well-worn scar on her arm. It was barely visible by now, but still there.

“I forgave you a long time ago, Draco.”

He kept touching her arm, rubbing circles into delicate skin there. “I think being a parent changes you intrinsically. The day Scorpius was born, it felt like my whole word shifted on its axis. When I first looked at him, I promised myself that he would grow up to be a far better man than his father. All the things I’m now ashamed of—I had to end them, for his sake.”

Hermione was speechless for a few moments. She hadn’t expected such a deep confession from him. His gaze was on the floor. “Just like you grew up to be a far better man than your father,” she said gently.

Draco looked up. He could tell she was being genuine, and he had to do something about the way his heart was pounding against his ribcage. He stepped closer and narrowed his eyes. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

Realistically, Hermione had time to push him away. She could have changed her mind about their arrangement. Talked some sense into herself. But as he stepped closer, desire overrode reason. There was nothing she wanted more. His lips crashed into hers and she moaned, her arms wrapping around his neck. It was slower, gentler, more tender than before—when their hurried coupling had been a culmination of a heated argument. Hermione didn’t have much experience with casual, but from the way he slipped his tongue inside her mouth and the tingles crawling up her spine, this struck her as anything but.

He pulled back slightly, her bottom lip caught between his teeth and she gasped. “Granger,” he growled. “What are you doing to me?” His hands wound through her hair as he backed them up into the fridge.

His words barely registered. All she could think about was his hands on her, the way he had felt inside her. It had been years since she had felt anything remotely like this, and she felt positively aflame with desire. His grip tightened, and she gasped. “Nothing worse than what you’re doing to me.”

They were dancing up to a cliff’s edge. One wrong move, and they’d fall right over. He was her advisor, and she was the Minister. Not to mention their former enemy status, or the fact that the ink on her divorce scroll had barely dried. She wondered if any of it mattered anymore. Her eyes fluttered closed as he nuzzled her hairline with his nose. His lips brushed the shell of her ear as he whispered, “Tell me what you want.”

It was the moment of truth. She could tell him to leave, and she knew he would. But the ever-increasing heat in her lower abdomen was too insistent and heady to ignore. “I want you to fuck me, Draco.”

“I was so hoping you’d say that.” He smirked before kissing her again, his hands finding her arse to hoist her up. She wrapped her legs around him as he carried her to the bedroom. 

Her flat was modest, practical—a place for everything and everything in its place. But her bed was another story. It was the first time in a long time that she had the option to sleep how she wanted, and she had spent a good chunk of money for something really nice to collapse into after a long day at the ministry. Now, though… now she sunk into the soft mattress as Draco pressed her into it, settling between her thighs. She could feel his increasing hardness pressed up against her and was nearly aching for him as he rocked against her. Her hands went for the waistband of his pants, eager to get on with it. “Need… you…” she panted between kisses.

He pushed her hand away as he started lifting her shirt up. “Patience, Granger. We didn’t get to take our time before. I plan on making this last.”

_ Oh god _ . She was going to die. The shag in her office the other day had been a quickie, but Hermione had enjoyed it. She had been so keyed up by the time he entered her that it hadn’t taken long to come. This time, however, he was going to draw it out. She hated him for it as much as she was relishing it. She felt his long fingertips grazing her nipples through her dress. She had purposely forgone a bra in case something like this happened. He looked nearly reverent as he touched her, and she wondered if anyone had ever looked at her this way—like he was lucky to simply be in her presence. He shifted her strap down, exposing her breast. She cried out when he sucked a peak into his mouth, arching her back off the bed.

She could tell he was smirking, even with his mouth full of her. His teeth grazed her sensitive bud, and she raked her fingers through his hair. Cutting it had made him look younger, more like himself. Impatient, she wandlessly magicked away her dress, leaving her only in her knickers. “What did I say about patience?” he snarled, grey eyes darkening. He pinned her wrists above her head and kissed her hungrily again.

Her eyes rolled back as he kissed his way down her neck and started to attend to her other breast. Just when she thought she was going to lose it, he started moving lower, blazing a hot trail with his mouth down her body to the waistband of her lacy knickers. Hermione was suddenly thankful that she had let Ginny drag her to Agent Provocateur last year in a last ditch effort to save her marriage. 

“My, my. I hadn’t pegged you for a fancy lingerie girl. I fully expected granny panties.”

“Shut it,  _ Malfoy _ .” She used her best stern voice, knowing what it likely did to him.

“Tell me, Granger”—his thumbs hooked into the knickers, dragging them down to expose her fully—“When was the last time someone ate you out?” 

Her wide eyes gave her away. Ron had tried several times, but he was a little too sloppy and she never was able to get off from that alone, so they had given up. Hermione had just assumed married sex was boring, and that was that. “A long time,” she mumbled. Her cheeks flushed as she said it.

“Mmm… that’s what I thought. Don’t worry, I’m very good at it.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively as he peeled his jumper off and ducked down till she could feel his breath on her sex. He grabbed her thighs, forcing them a little wider as he delved in, his hot tongue forging a path through her folds to the tender bundle of nerves at the top, pausing to swirl there and lightly suck.

“Fuck.” Her voice trembled as the word came out. She could feel him smiling into her as his mouth kept up its barrage. He was a right git, an arsehole, an—she moaned loudly as his tongue teased her opening—evil genius, a master of the female anatomy, a Slytherin sex god. Her hips bucked up of their own volition, grinding herself against his face. She had no idea it could be like this. “Draco, I—” 

Her words were cut off as one of his long fingers entered her. She clenched around him and he added another, his lips never leaving the delicate bud at her apex. He fucked her with his fingers, curling them up  _ just so _ to reach that spongy spot inside that made her squirm. She fell apart underneath him with a cry, spasms still rocking her body. He licked her through it, pulling his fingers out to put a gentle hand on her stomach, stilling her. Then he climbed back up her body, sucking his fingers clean. “I always knew you’d taste good, but fucking hell...”

He looked so pleased with himself that she’d be annoyed if she wasn’t basking in an orgasmic glow. Hermione pulled him back down on top of her, kissing him languidly. She registered the taste of herself on his tongue. Instead of being grossed out by it, she found herself turned on, pushing her tongue deeper into his mouth. She felt wild and possessive, not like she ever expected to feel with Draco Malfoy in her bed. 

The mattress moved beneath them, and she realized he was wriggling out of his trousers. She had briefly seen his cock before, but somehow seeing it again was like the first time. He was longer than she was used to, and her eyes widened slightly at the sight of him hard and bare before her. She took note of his naked chest, the hard lines of his pale muscular body pleasing her. The years had been kind to him. She assumed he must have kept some kind of workout regimen to remain so fit. His ego needed no inflation, so instead of praising him, she ran her hands all over him appreciatively. He shuddered when her fingers began playing with his nipples. Then he took himself in hand, giving a few quick pumps before he easing himself inside her. “Fuck. Hermione—” 

She gasped as he filled her up. “I thought that’s what you were doing.”

They both groaned when he shoved into the hilt. “Mmm, how about you shut your smart mouth.” He covered her lips with his as he started to move.

It was so much better than the first time. Before, they had been frantic, trying to ease the tension that had been building between them. This time they both knew what they wanted and took it from each other without hesitation. Draco sighed, her molten heat like heaven around him. He never thought he’d actually get to be here, inside Hermione Granger, fucking her deep into a mattress in some Muggle London flat. He wanted to bottle up all the memories to replay them over and over when she inevitably realized her huge mistake and cut him loose.

With age had come stamina, and though he hadn’t had a chance to use it in recent years, he was thankful for it now. He knew how difficult he could be, but sex was always something he had prided himself in excelling at. The look on Hermione’s face told him everything—the perfect O shape of her mouth, the sweat beading at her temples, her breath coming in rapid pants—sex was  _ definitely  _ better now. “You feel amazing,” he whispered as he licked the beads of sweat off her forehead.

Hermione could only answer with incoherent babbling. His pace had increased and he was hitting her so deep, she could barely breathe. It wouldn’t be long now, the sparks already starting down her spine. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so wanted. Her fingers dug into his back as she held on; she’d have to check later to see if there were scratches that needed healing. “Draco,” she breathed. Her fingers ghosted down his back until she reached his arse, grabbing onto the muscle as he pummeled into her. The pleasure built up inside her so intensely she thought she might break, and suddenly she was over the edge—her back arching up again as the waves of pleasure overtook her.

She was clamping down on him so tightly that she was dragging Draco along with her. He felt a tightening and then release as he spilled into her, his hips jerking erratically. He bit down on Hermione’s shoulder to keep from crying out. He finally stilled, struggling to catch his breath. That… was the best sex of his life. How could he ever let go of her now? 

“Granger.” His voice was soft as he smoothed her hair back, peppering her face with kisses. She was even more beautiful now than she’d been when they were in school, he thought. Her eyes fluttered closed at his touch and she turned her head to kiss his palm.  _ Fuck _ . If his heart wasn’t already gone before, it certainly was now. This was a dangerous game they were playing, but he couldn’t bring himself stop. He would take anything she offered. He rolled off of her and angled himself behind her, tucking her head under his chin. 

 

* * *

 

When Hermione awoke, Draco’s arms were holding her captive. They were both still naked, and she could feel the stickiness between her thighs. Her cheeks flushed as the night before came back to her. Even when they had first gotten together all those years ago, it had  _ never _ been like that with Ron. He was a capable lover, for the most part, but it lacked the fire and passion she had experienced with Draco. She felt like she had been properly fucked and didn’t know how she was going to be able to stop. She tried to move and he pulled her closer in his sleep. A sigh escaped her.  _ This is dangerous. _

When she finally extricated herself from his embrace, she made her way to the loo on wobbly legs. There was pleasant soreness between them. She looked over her shoulder to see him watching her. “Sorry, I was trying not to wake you.”

He smiled. “Anyone ever tell you what a perfect arse you have?”

“Only you, Draco.”

“Pity, ” he smirked. He kept his eyes on her until she closed the door.


	8. Chapter 8

“You’ve been shagging someone, haven’t you?”

“Ginny!”

“Please spill it, Hermione. I haven’t had any proper gossip in ages and I’d love to live vicariously.”

“I have not been—”

“Nope. Don’t try lying. You haven’t stopped smiling since you came over, and you have that ‘getting shagged on the regular’ glow about you.” A sly grin skirted the corners of her mouth. “I also noticed the contraception potion on your counter last time I was over.”

Hermione blushed. She knew she wasn’t getting out of this one, but she couldn’t exactly tell her the truth, either. “It’s no one you know…”

“But it is  _ someone _ .”

“Yes, okay? Yes.  _ Happy _ ?” She huffed and took a long sip of wine. Harry was out with Ron, so they were having a bit of a girl’s night at the Potter residence.

Ginny was beaming. “Extremely. So what’s he like?”

“Tall, dark, mysterious—”  _ Stop it, you’re describing Viktor Krum _ . “Um, he’s a Muggle. Someone I met at a local coffee shop. It’s very new—nothing serious. Just physical.”

“Oh yeah? Well, good for you. How is he in bed?”

This Hermione didn’t have to lie about. She sighed, remembering the tangle of limbs that she and Draco had been only last night. “Bloody _ fantastic _ . I mean, this is awkward because of, you know, your brother—”

Ginny waved her off. “Don’t be ridiculous. I know what Ron’s like. You don’t have to spare him for my sake.”

“Okay, well… this new guy. He’s so  _ attentive _ . He gets me off first every time, sometimes more than once before we even—  _ you know _ .” Heat flooded her face. It was true, though. Draco was an impossibly generous lover.

“Merlin’s beard. Well, if you two get serious, you’ll have to introduce him to Harry. Maybe he could teach him a few tricks.”

Hermione cringed inwardly at the thought of Draco discussing their sex life with Harry. She laughed nervously. “Yeah, maybe.”

 

* * *

 

He was leering. That was the only way to describe the look that Draco was giving her across the conference table. She felt the heat creep up her neck and did her best to stifle it, wordlessly casting a cooling charm on herself to counteract the fire of his gaze. She forced herself to return her focus to the task at hand.

The location of her torture was an interdepartmental meeting, which had been another one of Hermione’s suggestions after she took over as Minister. The head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was presently droning on and on about Luna’s proposal, and she did her best to nod along. She definitely was  _ not _ thinking about the man across from her or the delicious, lingering ache between her thighs from the absolute pounding he had given her last night. He had been over nearly every night since last Friday, shagging her within an inch of her life, and then passing out with his arms wrapped around her. Hermione wasn’t entirely sure how these arrangements were supposed to work, but she thought friends with benefits didn’t sleep over. Not that it mattered all that much—Draco would always wake up first and apparate home to change before seeing her again at the Ministry. And she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed falling asleep in his arms. 

“Minister?” Hermione blinked, realizing that all  eyes were suddenly on her.

“Yes, absolutely. You have my approval.” Hermione managed a small smile before dismissing the meeting.

She strode into her office, Draco hot on her trail. He closed the door behind them and grabbed her by the wrist. Her breath caught as he whipped her around and pressed her against the door. “I didn’t hear a word of that meeting. All I could think about was this.”

She gasped as his hot mouth descended on hers, his insistent tongue pushing in to taste her fully. Kissing him was intoxicating—if she didn’t focus, she was going to forget what she wanted to say completely and lose herself in him for the rest of the day. “Draco—” she began, shoving him off slightly.

He smirked. “I love the way you say my name, all breathy like that.”

Why did he have to make things so damn difficult? He leaned back in for more, but she pressed  her hand against his chest. “I think we need to go over some ground rules.”

_ Ground rules, right _ , Draco thought sourly. Because this was merely an arrangement—friends with benefits, as Hermione had said. Nothing more. He frowned as she sat behind her desk. Her hands were shaking. Surely she wasn’t breaking it off altogether? He sat in his normal chair opposite her and crossed his legs slowly, doing his best to give the impression of boredom while his traitorous heart thudded in his chest.

“First off, no fooling around at the office.” Her voice quivered on the words ‘fooling around’ like she was a teenager again. It was adorable.

“Way to take all the fun out of it, Granger.” He rolled his eyes, but he knew she was right. If anyone caught them, there would be serious consequences.

She gave him the  _ look _ — the one he’d seen her give to Potter and Weasley about a million times. It really shouldn’t have turned him on, but it did— immensely. Perhaps it always had. “Second, you  _ have  _ to stop eye-fucking me during meetings! I cannot concentrate on my duties when you look at me like that.”

“Well, I don’t know if that can be helped. Unless you start wearing burlap sacks to work. Even then, I’ll probably just be thinking about getting you out of the sack, so—”

“Draco!”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll  _ try _ . But maybe you should try being less sexy, Granger.” He rose from his seat and came around the desk, propping himself against it. He caressed her cheek, threading his long fingers through her hair. “Now about that ‘not at work’ rule. Can that go into effect tomorrow?”

Hermione’s resolve was crumbling as he kissed her temple and moved his hand to her neck. His thumb applied gentle pressure on her pulse point, and she let out a long sigh. “I suppose.”

 

* * *

 

Draco whistled in the lift as he made his way to Harry’s level. He figured he should try to tone down his demeanor a bit, but it was hard to be anything less than cheerful, as he had just had the Minister on top of her desk, his head between her thighs. He could still taste her on his tongue—it made him dizzy with arousal, though his body should have been thoroughly worn out. He simply couldn’t get enough of her.

His steps were light as he rounded the corner to Potter’s office, but the person exiting made him stop cold. 

“Malfoy.”

“Weasel.” His mouth pressed into a tight line at he watched Ron stroll jauntily in his direction. Though things between Draco and Harry had never been better, there was still ample animosity between he and the ginger. Then he remembered that he was shagging his ex-wife and smirked.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Ron sneered.

_ Wouldn’t you like to know? _ “Exercise. Releases endorphins. You should try it sometime.”

Ron scowled. “You may have Harry fooled, but to me you still reek of slimy ferret.” He stalked off.

“Better than a Weasel,” Draco muttered as he turned to enter Harry’s office.

“Greetings, Malfoy,” Harry said . “What do you need?”

“Request for Auror accompaniment.” He dropped the paperwork on his desk.

The Muggle PM was visiting a town with a significant wizard population in a couple weeks and as such, they had recommended sending an Auror along with her usual security detail. It was only a precaution, but the forms needed Harry’s stamp of approval.

Harry studied him for a moment. “Everything okay?” .

“Yeah, just ran into Weasley in the hall.”

“Ah—I see.”

“He hasn’t changed a bit from school, you know.”

“No, but that’s Ron. He’s stubborn. You don’t actually  _ want _ him to like you, do you?”

He didn’t, really, but it might help if he ever got serious with Hermione. They did have Rose to contend with. But the idea of being on good terms with Ron was a fanciful one a best. Especially once he found out he was giving his ex-wife the best sex of her life. “I suppose not,” he sighed. “The feeling is quite mutual.”

Harry nodded and moved to grab the paperwork. “I’ll have these back to you tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” Draco rolled his shoulders and left, feeling more exposed than he had in awhile. Bloody Gryffindors.

 

* * *

 

It had been a shit day. Amidst all the paperwork and mindless meetings, all Draco could think about was going over to Hermione’s flat and sinking into her, making her come. After their daily meeting, he had hardly seen her at all the rest of the day—as it grew closer to quitting time, he could feel the anticipation grow. 

They never left together, but he spent so many nights at her flat now it was starting to feel more like home than the manor. It was her, really.  _ She  _ felt like home. He still could barely believe the things she let him do to her, even if it was purely physical for her. It felt deeper than that every time they lay entwined together afterwards, each time he’d fall asleep at her place and wake up with her in his arms. He could only hope that she was starting to feel it too.

As soon as he was done for the day, he practically sprinted to the Atrium and apparated to her flat. She had adjusted her wards to allow him entry at any time of day—more trust than he thought was allowed of a typical fuck buddy. He could hear the water running as he tossed his things onto her couch and made his way through her bedroom.

Hermione had left work that day as soon as she was able to, and had jumped in the shower. She knew Draco was coming over after work today, and she just felt like she needed to wash the day off before experiencing the pleasure that was to come. They had been shagging for a few weeks now, but she still couldn’t get enough of him. He brought out something in her she didn’t know existed. Every time he touched her, licked her, entered her, it was like a religious experience. She couldn’t believe she had gone so long not knowing that sex could be like this. 

The water sluiced down her naked body in rivulets before sliding down the drain and disappearing. Her hands skirted up her slender neck and into her hair as she gave it one last rinse before wringing it out. She had never felt so sexy in her life.  _ He _ made her feel that way. After spending years wondering why things with Ron had become so stale, it was thoroughly refreshing. She carefully wrapped herself in a fluffy towel and stepped out of the shower. She nearly had a heart attack when she saw Draco standing in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, his gaze predatory as he watched her.

“Granger.”

“You scared the fuck out of me.”

He pushed off the entry and stalked towards her slowly. “I see you’ve done half my job for me already.”

“What, disrobing me is in your job description now, advisor?” She smiled cheekily as he finished rolling up his shirtsleeves and cupped her cheeks, brushing his lips against hers. He was so gone for this woman.

“These days, yes. Can’t be too careful when it comes to our precious minister.” He smoothed his thumb over her brow bone. Then he let go of her to loosen his tie and unbutton his vest. Today’s outfit had been much like a Muggle three piece suit in a slate grey that brought out his eyes. His shirt was stark white and his tie royal blue.

“Draco, I’m all wet.” Her hair dripped little splashes onto the tile.

“And about to be much wetter,” he teased. 

“But  _ you’re _ going to get wet if you don’t let me dry off.”

“Granger, by the time I’m done with you, we’re both going to need a shower.” He gripped her hips and twirled her around to face the mirror. 

She moaned as he brought his hands up to her neck, giving her a quick squeeze before running them down her still damp shoulders, placing a kiss on the right one. 

“Do you know how beautiful you are, Granger?” 

“Mmm,” Hermione hummed. “Why don’t you tell me?” She loved when he was like this,his sultry voice in her ear, his breath hot against her neck. It was easy to let him take control and let herself get lost in the moment.

“No, open your eyes and look. I’m going to show you.”

She did as he commanded, looking at herself in the mirror. Draco’s arms wrapped around her possessively as he reached for the knot of her towel. He pulled it open slowly, revealing her naked body for their combined perusal. “Gorgeous,” he breathed. 

She smiled seductively as his eyes roved over her from top to toe. Her eyes darkened slightly in her reflection as she saw him reach for her breasts.

“Your tits are perfect.” He tweaked her left nipple. “One of my favorite things about you.”

Hermione gasped when he bit down on the juncture of her shoulder and neck, soothing the area with his tongue. He gazed up at her in the mirror, his pupils wide with desire. His fingers continued to knead and massage her breasts. Then, he moved his right hand slowly down.

“You’re soft in the best places—” his hand skirted across her stomach—“and hard in others.” He grazed her hipbone. “And parts of you,” she shuddered as she watched his hand disappear between her legs, automatically parting for him, “are  _ so _ responsive to my touch.”

His middle finger found her clit, and she moaned. “Draco…”

“Keep your eyes open, love. I want you to see what I do to you. To see how glorious you look when you fall apart.” He plunged inside her with two fingers, twisting his wrist to keep his thumb at her sensitive bud. “See? Drenched.”

He pumped in and out of her several times and Hermione watched transfixed at his hand moving between her thighs. She had to grip around his arms for something to hold onto. She’d never done anything like this before. It felt positively wicked and her mouth fell open as her breathing quickened into short little gasps. Every time she sought Draco’s face, he was watching her—it heightened her arousal even further.

His digits crooked inside of her, hitting that delicate spot that had her bucking into his hand. “Draco, I’m—”

“Come for me, Hermione,” he murmured into her hairline.

She felt his other arm wrap around her tightly as she climaxed, clenching around his fingers. Her eyes fluttered closed as she rode it out. She couldn’t keep them open any longer.

“That’s my good girl,” he crooned. He held her still for a moment before pulling his fingers out and licking them clean. “Fuck, you taste so good.”

He placed her hands on the counter top before releasing her so he could undress the rest of the way. Hermione watched him as he unbuttoned his shirt, sliding it off and letting it fall to the floor. He was pale but firm, chest and arms still well-defined. She could hardly believe how much she wanted him—she was already rife with anticipation, even though she had just come. The sight of him unbuckling his belt in the mirror had her biting her lip with a groan.

“See something you like?” he quipped as his slid his pants to the floor.

“You,” she answered.

“Good answer.” His hand grazed down her spine as he put her into the position he wanted, kicking her legs a little further apart and bending her further towards the counter. “Keep your eyes on our reflection. I want you to watch me take you from behind.”

She nodded, letting out a breathy whimper as she felt the head of him press into her slick folds. He pushed inside easily, a wet smack sounding as he buried himself to the hilt. “Fuck,” she cursed.

Draco smirked as she let the obscenity slip. “I love your dirty mouth, Granger. Almost as much as I love your tight cunt.” He started a steady rhythm entranced by the bounce of her tits in the mirror. Merlin, she was resplendent. His fingers dug into her hips as he pounded into her from behind. She felt like heaven around his cock, warm and wet and  _ his _ —he would never get enough.

Before long, he was picking up the pace, his hands slapping down on the counter beside hers as he pistoned into her. Hermione arched her back and cried out as he hit her deep, the angle new for them. She was on the edge again when Draco’s hand moved back to her apex.

“Who does this pussy belong to?” he asked as his fingers stroked her with abandon.

“You, Draco. Only you.” Hearing her confirmation went straight to his cock, the pressure in his balls building. His possessive streak flared, knowing she was his. He was close. Hermione’s thighs were quivering and he felt her walls start to flutter as he thrust harder, his fingers at her clit increasing pressure. She came hard, spasming around him and he let go, hips stuttering into her as he spilled his release.

They stayed like that—with him still inside her—for several minutes, regaining their breath and composure, staring at each other’s reflections. A feeling rose inside him that he quickly tried to tamper down.  _ It’s too soon for that,  _ he scolded himself. He kissed her temple as he pulled out of her and she gazed up at him, sated and pleased.

“That was amazing,” she breathed.

He made a playful little bow and she slapped his bicep. “I believe I owe you another shower.”

“You do indeed,” she answered as she moved around him to turn on the water.

He pulled her tight to him as the water sprayed down on them. It was a long time before they were clean. 

 

* * *

 

Draco couldn’t sleep. Hermione shifted in his arms, her breathing heavy. He sighed and kissed her hair. This was not what she had asked for—she wanted simple and casual. Problem was, with each passing day, his heart became more and more hers. It was at the point where he was certain he’d be devastated if she called it off.

Things with Astoria had happened gradually. In true Pureblood tradition, he had courted and wooed her, sitting down to discuss their intentions and planning it all out. He had loved her deeply and their sex life had left nothing to be desired, but this thing with Hermione was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. The ferocity with which he desired her was unmatched. It was like he could spend a lifetime exploring her body and still want more.

But it wasn’t just her body. It was her beautiful mind, her tenacious wit, her enduring strength. He was enthralled with everything about her—and he would do whatever it took to keep her in his life. He could only hope that she was starting to feel even a fraction of what he felt for her.

He wasn’t sure what he’d do otherwise.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note: I will be moving to updates every other week as I will be out of town next weekend and also working on my RFFA fic in addition to this one. So the next update will be 5/20.
> 
> Thanks as always to raven_maiden for the beta!


	9. Chapter 9

Tea wasn’t cutting it this morning. Hermione sighed and decided to see if Harry wanted to accompany her somewhere to get a coffee. Draco was at his meeting with the Muggle PM, and she was dreadfully lonely.

Normally she craved her alone time, but ever since she and Draco had started shagging, she had started to rely on his ever-present company. She missed him when he was gone. That wasn’t normal for friends with benefits—she was pretty sure of that. Perhaps it was time to admit that what she felt for him went beyond that. How could it not?

He was a whiz at conversation, a master of political prowess, and a tiger in the sack. Their compatibility was off the charts. The more she dwelled on it, the more guilt started to eat at her. Her divorce had only been final for a few months at this point—and although it had been over long before that, she felt almost criminal that she was the happiest she’d been in a long time with Draco.

Shaking off her unease, she made her way to the lifts. It was funny how last year had changed everything. Oddly enough, if it hadn’t been for Delphi and her evil machinations, Harry would likely still be at odds with Albus and she’d be still miserably slogging along in her marriage with Ron.

She stood in the doorway to Harry’s office, watching him for a moment. Some days, it seemed not a day had passed since he’d been a scrawny teenager intent on saving the wizarding world from Voldemort. Now he was the head of the DMLE and a loving father. They’d been through so much together. Watched each other grow. He had been her best friend for almost 30 years. It felt odd keeping such a big secret from him.

“Feel up for a coffee?” she finally said, announcing herself.

He glanced up, his face breaking into a grin as he took in her frazzled appearance. “Yeah, alright. Tea not enough this morning?”

“Nope. I think I want something truly awful with caramel or chocolate in it.”

“Costa?”

“You read my mind.”

They left the Ministry and went to the Muggle coffee shop located off Trafalgar Square. Hermione always loved watching the tourists exploring London. It was a nice day, so she and Harry settled down with their drinks on the edge of the fountain to people watch for a bit. She sipped at her overly sweet latte, closing her eyes in contentment.

Harry squirmed beside her for a few moments before clearing his throat. “So… Ginny told me you’re seeing someone?”

_ Shit _ . Damn Ginny and her inability to keep anything from her husband. “Um… seeing is a loose term. It’s not like we go on dates or anything—”

“So just sex then?”

Hermione nearly choked on her coffee. “ _ Harry _ ! I am not going to discuss my personal affairs with you.”

He chuckled. “Okay, okay. We just...” He sighed, raking a hand through his already messy dark hair. “We used to talk about everything, and lately I’ve felt like you’ve been talking with me less. Is it because of Malfoy?”

She really had to stop drinking while he was talking. She forced herself to swallow. “Excuse me?”

“I just know that you talk with him a lot because he’s your advisor and I wonder if he’s… taken my place as your confidant.”

She wasn’t sure what to do with this information. Harry was  _ jealous _ of hers and Draco’s relationship?  _ If only he knew _ … “No, it’s not like that, Harry. I promise.” Definitely not like that at all. “I feel like things have been a little strained between us since the divorce, and I just never wanted you to have to be in a position where you had to choose me over Ron.”

“You know I’d never turn my back on either of you.” His gentle tone forced her to look into his eyes. “And Hermione—please don’t feel bad for moving on. Ron isn’t broken up about it, and I don’t think you should be, either. I know you’ll find someone else who will treat you like you deserve… even if it’s not this mysterious Muggle bloke.”

Her lips drew into a genuine smile. “Thank you, Harry.” She rested her head on his shoulder as she watched a flurry of pigeons scatter into the air. All this sneaking around with Draco was starting to get old. It was fun at first, but now she wondered if he could possibly be that man for her. She’d never be able to know as long as their relationship remained secret.

 

* * *

 

Draco sighed, drumming his fingers on the edge of the mahogany table. Muggle politics were so bleeding  _ boring _ . One of the PM’s aides gave him a dirty look and he immediately stopped fidgeting. The only thing that made these encounters somewhat bearable was knowing he’d have to give Granger a full rundown afterwards. And then maybe after that, he could give her something  _ else _ .

He smirked as he remembered the previous evening, having her spread out on the kitchen counter while he frantically drove into her. They had knocked over her whole bowl of fruit, the bananas and apples all falling to the floor. 

To be honest, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could do it—sneaking around and shagging in secret. Fucking Hermione Granger was his absolute favorite activity in the world, but he also wanted to show her off, let the whole world know she was his. Only… she wasn’t quite  _ his _ , was she? She had made it clear they were just having sex—nothing more. He tried not to dwell on it too much, otherwise the tightening in his chest would get worse. He was totally in over his head, he knew. But he simply couldn’t stop. 

Today’s meeting was even more excruciating than normal because after all the bureaucratic nonsense, he’d have to accompany the PM in her Ministerial car to another location. The things he did for his constituents. He paused for a moment and reevaluated.  _ Be honest, there’s only one person you’re doing all of this for _ . Her. It had always been her. 

When he slid into the armoured Jaguar, he didn’t even bother hiding his approval. For Muggle transportation, this was top of the line. Draco was in the middle of listening to a droning Muggle newscaster on the radio when a commotion broke out. There were a series of loud bangs; he grabbed the armrest tightly amidst the squealing tires. It took him several moments to realize what it was—gunfire. 

The security officers in the vehicle were bodily shielding the PM by this point and one of them looked at Draco. “Get down,” he ordered.

Draco ducked as low as he could within the constraints of the car. He could clearly hear a bullet ricochet off of the heavily armoured vehicle. The driver calmly instructed, “I’m heading to secure location two. Please radio the others.”

“Bloody hell,” he murmured as the car turned down a side street.

 

* * *

 

Hermione beamed at Luna as she watched her shaking hands with various members of the Wizengamot. Her unicorn repopulation bill had passed with flying colors—and in record time too, due to the Minister personally overseeing the process. 

Her friend seemed to glow even more than usual in her bright orange robes as she fielded congratulations from several witches and wizards at once. Hermione placed a hand on her shoulder as she passed by. “Well deserved, Luna.”

“Thank you, Minister.”

She was about to head to the lifts back to her office when someone caught her by the arm. She turned around to see Blaise Zabini smirking at her. “Beg your pardon, Minister. I was hoping you could spare a moment.”

“Of course, Blaise. What did you need?”

“I just wanted to check in. Make sure things are going well with you and Draco, you know—since I’m the one who nominated him.”

Hermione didn’t like his tone. His words were innocuous enough, but she knew better when it came to Slytherins. “Thanks for asking. Things have been brilliant, actually. Draco has taken on more responsibility than I would have initially thought possible.”

“I’ll bet he has,” he said with a snort. 

Now she was angry. Her voice turned icy. “Did you have a specific request, Blaise? I’m quite busy at the moment.”

“No that’s all. I’m glad he’s been performing adequately for you.”

His voice was dripping with false sweetness. Hermione decided she and Draco would need to have a talk about this. The last thing they needed was Blaise snooping around and finding out too much.

 

* * *

 

Draco had no idea where he was at the moment. He kept trying to figure it out, but the security officers had whisked him so quickly away it was impossible to see enough to get a good bearing on the location. Not to mention that they were underground and there were no windows. 

The PM had been escorted to a separate room, and they left Draco alone in a sterile chamber. It had a couch, a table, a water cooler and nothing else. Not even any books or magazines… or that dreadful TV box. At least he still had his wand. 

In fact, Hermione would probably be expecting him back soon. He needed her to know he was safe, just in case she happened to turn on the news or look at her smartphone. Surely the Muggle news had already reported on this. Despite her numerous attempts to educate him, Draco still remained fuzzy on the details of the Internet and the BB-whatever it was. 

He took out his wand and thought for a moment, remembering the first time he’d been over to Hermione’s flat. Memories of him thrusting deep inside her as their fingers intertwined. When she came, her mouth opening in pleasure, he pointed and spoke, “ _Expecto Patronum_.”

 

* * *

 

Hermione stared at the clock on the wall of her office. Occasionally she let her eyes flicker around the cherry wood and familiar bookshelves. Perhaps it was time for a little redecorating. She hadn’t changed much about the office since she became Minister. 

She sighed loudly, resting her chin on her hands. Draco was supposed to be a little later than usual, as he was accompanying the PM somewhere else today—she knew that, and yet she felt uneasy. She had estimated that he would be back by now. 

Sometimes she was truly thankful for Muggle technology—one of her first acts as Minister had been to have the entire Ministry made WiFi accessible so Muggle-borns and half bloods would be able to contact their relatives in case of emergency. She slipped her smartphone out of her handbag to look at her BBC app. 

Before she could look at the “Breaking News” ticker, a flash of light caught the corner of her eye. She turned to see a silvery bird fly majestically into her office and stand in the center. She had seen one of these in a book before: it was large, sleek, tall. A great white heron, if she remembered correctly. It opened its beak and she was confronted with the sound of Draco’s voice.

“There’s been an attempt on the Muggle Prime Minister’s life. The armoured car we were in was under fire, so the security detail brought us to a hidden location. I believe it is underground. Both the Minister and I are fine, but I wanted you to be aware because I am not sure how long they will keep us here. I will update you as soon as I know more.”

Hermione slumped back in her seat, her heart pounding with both terror and relief.  She watched in a semi-daze as the great silvery fowl vanished before her eyes. She didn’t know Draco could even conjure a patronus, but the magnificent bird was the perfect fit—austere, regal, and beautiful… but also fierce and protective. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks for his safety. She so wished she could be with him right now.

It was nearly two hours later when the bird re-appeared to let her know Draco’s whereabouts. Hermione had checked the clock every minute since then. She  wasted no time after the bird dissipated, rushing to the atrium and apparating to the nearest point. She had to see him.

It was nearly dark by the time she found him. She had let the office know she wouldn’t be back for the day, only sparing them the smallest details. There were police vehicles and military personnel around to cloud her view, but finally Hermione saw a shock of white blonde hair and rushed over. She had to stop herself from running into his arms. 

Draco caught her by the shoulders and held her in place as they stared at each other for several moments. She forced her breathing to calm down before she spoke. “Advisor. So glad to see you’re okay.”

He studied her carefully, taking in the firestorm of emotions that passed across her face. Fear. Relief. Concern. “Yes,” he finally managed. “Thank you for coming to check on me personally.”

She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Draco, I was so worried. Is there somewhere we can go?”

It was Draco’s turn to calm his breathing. He knew she’d be worried, but he couldn’t believe she came all this way to check on him. And the way she was looking at him… well, he couldn’t believe that either. He eyed their surroundings until his eyes landed on a hotel. Another few surreptitious glances confirmed that the Muggle PM and her aides were sufficiently preoccupied. 

“Come on,” he urged, fighting the urge to take her by the hand. He crossed the street and walked briskly to the building, Hermione no more than a half step behind.

From the outside, it looked no different than the nice townhouses that dotted the more suburban London streets—white trim decorated the bay windows and white columns stood on either side of the entrance. They stopped on the stoop before entering and Hermione cupped his face. “If something had happened to you—”

“I know, love.” Surprise flashed through her eyes at the endearment. He cut her off quickly with a peck on the lips before either of them could think too much about it. He strode to the entrance and held the door open before following her in.

They were able to grab a modest room with relative ease, the receptionist having recognized Draco from the newsfeed earlier as someone who knew the Prime Minister. Once they were inside the room with the door locked, he cast a muffling spell over the room so they wouldn’t be heard.

Hermione whipped around before he could pounce on her. “I didn’t know you could conjure a patronus.”

He looked slightly taken aback before a sly grin graced his lips. “For the longest time I couldn’t. After Scorpius came along, I figured I had better try. I didn’t want anything to be beyond my capabilities when it came to protecting him. It seemed prudent.” He sat down on the bed and gestured for Hermione to join him. “It wasn’t corporeal for the longest time—just a bit of a shield, but it was enough. Slowly it got stronger as he grew and I had more happy memories with him and Astoria to draw on. Today while I was down in that bunker was the quickest and brightest it’s ever been for me.”

“Oh really? What was the memory?”

He looked deep into her eyes, and Hermione felt something warm bloom in her chest. “I was thinking about you—about being with you, inside you.” He took her hands in his, rubbing her delicate skin with his thumbs. “Hermione, I don’t know if I can keep doing this...  _ casual  _ thing.”

She swallowed hard. “I know what you mean. When I thought you were in danger—I was going crazy with worry.”

His eyes darkened slightly. “Care about me, do you, Granger?”

“You know I do,” she whispered just before his lips claimed hers. 

The kiss was slow and sweet, laden with meaning, as Draco leaned them back onto the bed. It felt like they kissed for hours, their lips becoming swollen as they gave into each other. He pulled back and smiled at her and Hermione felt tears prick the corner of her eyes. She never dreamed the man above her would stir such emotion inside—but here they were.

She scooted out from underneath him and knelt on the bed, her hands moving for the buttons on his shirt. Draco watched as her nimble fingers undressed him. He was so enthralled with her that he momentarily forgot what he was supposed to be doing. When she slid the shirt back and down his shoulders, he came to his senses, his hands reaching to help slip her robes over her head.

This left her in only her bra and knickers and Draco couldn’t resist pulling her back to him for another kiss. “You are so beautiful.” He bit his lip before he could say more, moving to preoccupy himself with her neck. 

Hermione moaned as he sucked a bruise into her collarbone. She raked her fingers through his hair, cherishing this moment together. In the back of her mind a new worry started to form—if anyone found out about them, they’d have to end it. Her awkward encounter with Blaise from before had her on edge. And right now, that was the last thing she wanted. No one had made her feel this way before, and she wasn’t ready to let go of that.

“Draco,” she breathed as he entered her with one smooth stroke. When he filled her like this, she felt complete—like nothing was missing from her life.

“Fuck,” he cursed as he started to move. He would never get tired of this, of her warmth and slick smoothness, the way they fit together perfectly. It was like coming home each time. There was nothing like a brush with danger to kickstart one’s libido and right now Draco wasn’t taking it for granted. He slid almost all the way back out before thrusting back hard.

Hermione gasped from the quick motion and clutched his back so tightly she could feel her nails starting to break the skin. “Ah—sorry!” she mumbled as he pummeled her into the mattress.

“Don’t be… sorry, Granger.” He hissed through his teeth as he hit her especially deep. “I like it a little rough sometimes.”

“Oh god,” she moaned, feeling him speed up. “Me too. Fuck me harder, Draco.”

His signature smirk was back as he reared back and pulled one of her legs up to rest on his shoulder. When he pushed back in the new angle was almost torturous in its pleasure and Hermione writhed beneath him. “Something like this?”

“Yes!” she cried when his fingers found her clit and started to circle slowly. She was on the brink now.

Hermione crashed over into bliss with a shriek unlike anything he’d heard from her before. Draco smiled as he felt her spasm around him and was gone after a couple more thrusts. He groaned as he filled her up, his hands cupping her face while he placed a sweet kiss on her lips. After, he went to roll off, but she held him tight. “Don’t go just yet. Stay a minute.”

He softened inside her and just lay on top of her like she wanted. It felt oddly more intimate than anything they’d done thus far. When she finally released him, he pulled out, snuggled up behind her, and held her close. “What are we gonna do, Hermione?”

Her eyes fluttered closed, contemplating his question. “I don’t know, Draco. I don’t know.”

 

* * *

 

They slept for several hours before waking for a second round. She held onto the headboard as he slammed into her from behind, spanking her pert bum a few times in the process. “Oh!” she cried out.  It was unexpected, but she felt herself grow wetter.

“Granger, have you been a naughty girl?”

She tossed her hair back as she looked at him over her shoulder. “ _ Maybe _ . I think we should definitely explore this further in the future.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” he purred before grabbing her hips tight and starting the rhythm again. 

She came with a howl several minutes later with his mouth between her shoulder blades and his fingers on her clit. Draco growled as he emptied himself inside her.

Utterly spent, they collapsed back onto the bed. Hermione giggled. 

“What?”

“Nothing. I just sometimes wonder what my teenage self would think of Draco Malfoy being the best fuck of my life.”

His heart swelled with pride at the words, knowing at the very least, he had finally bested Ron Weasley at something. At most, this goddess of a witch in his arms was now his. And he had no intention of letting her go. “I sometimes wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t been such an idiot as a teenager.”

In all honesty, she had thought about it, too. She did testify at his trial, and she had always thought him handsome. She took a minute or two before speaking. “It does no good to dwell on what ifs. You have Scorpius and I have Rose.”

“And I wouldn’t trade that for anything,” he agreed. “I just wish I could have had more time with you.”

Hermione sighed and found where his hand rested on her waist, interlacing their fingers. “I know what you mean.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update should be June 3rd. Thanks as always to raven_maiden for the beta!
> 
> I picked a heron as Draco's patronus for several reasons. This [article](https://www.spirit-animals.com/heron-symbolism/) is great for anyone interested in heron symbolism.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back, kids! Apologies for the long wait. I was trying to finish up my RFFA fic and some other real life stuff just got in the way, but this chapter is a bit longer to make up for it!
> 
> Thanks as always to raven_maiden for the beta!

Summer was quickly approaching. Soon the kids would be home from Hogwarts and Hermione knew that meant a serious decrease in her time with Draco… unless they decided to go public. She still wasn’t sure what that would entail, or how it would be received, or what the ramifications for her job would be. There were so many variables that it was best not to dwell on it. The realization that she was only delaying what was likely an inevitable disaster hit her hard. She didn’t want it to end.

Approaching more quickly than the end of term was Draco’s birthday. Hermione had plans. Plans that involved going back to her old house to look through the attic. Which meant she needed to owl Ron. What was the best way to tell your ex-husband that you needed to search the house you used to share for something that would make the man you’re currently shagging very happy?

She grimaced just thinking about Ron’s reaction. He had always hated Malfoy. Far more than she or Harry did. In fact, if she were to make things with Draco official, she wasn’t sure what Ron would do. One thing was certain: it wouldn’t be pretty.

 

* * *

 

Draco woke with a start. The book that he’d fallen asleep on top of had a small drool stain tainting the well worn parchment. He frowned and wiped the corner of his mouth. _How undignified_.

The Malfoy library was extensive, but he hadn’t been able to locate any obscure law or case that might  help in his current situation. If he could find a way to keep both his job _and_ Hermione, it was worth a shot. But his search had remained unfruitful.

The other option was to call in some favors—perhaps he could see about getting dirt on Blaise in order to keep him in check. But that would only be a temporary solution, and as someone who tried desperately to cut all his Death Eater ties, he was a little short on shady contacts.

Things in his life had been so much better since Hermione became a part of it. He was tempted  to just resign so they could stop hiding their relationship, but then where would that leave her at the Ministry? After all, he was the only one who had accepted the nomination for advisor. He couldn’t let her down like that. The truth was that he’d give up anything it took to ensure her happiness. Even at the cost of his own.

He sighed and rubbed his temples. _What a pathetic sap I’ve become_.

 

* * *

 

The box lay on Hermione’s bed, no worse for the wear. It turned out that Ron was perfectly fine with her coming over to dig through the attic since he was going to be at the Burrow all weekend.

A flood of memories hit her as she pulled out her old Hogwarts uniform. It smelled a little musty, but was in otherwise pristine condition. The scarlet and gold of the tie took her back to nights in the Gryffindor common room, sharing secrets and plans.

She smiled wistfully as she ran her hand over the house crest emblazoned on the robe. She wouldn’t be needing that. She folded it carefully and placed it back in the box. Time for the moment of truth.

She surveyed herself in the mirror, almost in disbelief that it still fit. Her breasts were bigger now—the cardigan and white shirt practically bursting at the seams—but that was just as well as she planned to leave them mostly exposed. She magicked the skirt shorter until she could see the edge of the thigh high stockings she had on underneath. A smile crept over her lips as she imagined Draco seeing her in the old uniform. It would be a happy birthday for him indeed.

 

* * *

 

Unfortunately, Draco’s birthday fell on a weekday, so he still had to go into work. During his morning meeting with Hermione, he noticed she had on high heels and exceptionally tight fitting robes. Unable to resist, he locked and silenced her office with a flick of his wand. He moved towards her, a predatory look in his eye. “Is this for me?”

His hands skirted down her hips from behind and she turned in his arms. “Mmm. A preview, perhaps. I have a surprise for you after work.”

“Tease.”

“We did say no more fooling around at the office.” Her tone was stern, but she couldn’t hide the ghost of a smirk forming on her lips.

“ _You_ said; I merely went along with it.” He settled for kissing her neck before taking his usual seat. He stared at her as she safely settled behind her desk, organizing her papers and memos for the day. “Come to the Manor tonight.”

She glanced up at him, her mouth falling open. “What?”

“Come to the Manor tonight—for my birthday. The house elves usually go all out, even though I tell them not to.” She continued to stare at him as if she hadn’t heard him correctly. He shrugged. “Besides, my mother already knows about us.”

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up. _This wasn’t good_ . “She _does_?” Her voice squeaked a little as she eked out the question.

“She is my mother and a Slytherin. She figured it out after the first time we shagged.” Draco smirked, thinking back on the memory of being caught by his mum. “Don’t worry, she hasn’t told anyone.”

“Draco—” Hermione trailed off. It was different, somehow—more official. Going to the Manor meant acknowledging this was a relationship and meeting Narcissa Malfoy for the first time in years sounded less than pleasant.

“Granger, please? As my present? We’re always at your flat, and I never complain.” He wanted more than anything to sleep in his own bed tonight, and having Hermione there would make it even better. He wanted her to know just how important she’d become to him.

She sighed. What more could it hurt if Narcissa already knew? “I suppose.”

He grinned. “Excellent. You needn’t bother getting me anything else.”

It was Hermione’s turn to smirk as she thought about the uniform sitting inside her bag. “Oh, but I did get you something. You’ll quite enjoy it, I think.”

Heat spread through Draco’s body as he realized the connotation in her voice. “I can’t wait.”

 

* * *

 

Stepping inside the Manor for the first time in over twenty years felt strange. Draco had taken her by side-along so as not to leave her stranded in the foyer by herself, but Hermione still felt trepidation. The last time she had been here—well, that was so very long ago. Her demons had long since been put to rest, and it seemed that Draco’s had as well.

In fact, she barely recognized the place. “It looks so much different than I remember.”

Draco looked at her, a nostalgic expression on his face. “Yes. Well, Astoria had the entire place renovated when she moved in. She didn’t want anything to look like it had during the war.”

“Smart woman.” Hermione smiled. Draco seemed to have a thing for intelligence.

“Indeed.”

They walked through the impressive parlor that was now adjacent to the foyer. Draco gave her a brief tour as they continued on, through the first floor, and up to the second where his room was. “You can drop your bags in here and wash up if you like.”

“Thanks.” Hermione surveyed the room. For some reason, she had pictured teenage Draco’s room—a mix of silver and green with intimidating, dark furniture. Instead what she got was soft neutrals: gray, beige, a little navy blue. She turned around to find Draco studying her intently. “So will your mother be joining us for dinner?”

“I asked but she thought we should have our privacy—it being your first time over to the Manor as my…” he trailed off as he searched for the word. What was she exactly? His fuckbuddy? His girlfriend? None of these words seemed to fit.

Hermione took the hint. “Oh. I see.” She had the same question on her mind, wondering what exactly the definition of their relationship was. Friends with benefits didn’t seem right anymore. Was Draco Malfoy her boyfriend? He was certainly her lover, but the kinship she felt with him, the protectiveness—it was more than that.

He cleared his throat and moved on.

They both freshened up a little before dinner. Then Draco showed her to their impressively large dining room, complete with a mahogany table big enough to seat 12. It would seem ostentatious anywhere else, but for Malfoy Manor, it simply fit. Hermione noticed the Black family tapestry from Grimmauld Place displayed along one wall. She inched closer. It had somehow been magically repaired to show Sirius, Andromeda, and the others who had been disowned as restored.

“Where did—how did—Draco?”

He watched her with fascinated eyes. “A gift from Potter, actually. I suppose he got a bit wistful after our little adventure last year and decided to go through the old place. He thought maybe my mother would like to have it, and she was able to find a way to restore the burned off images.”

“How?” Hermione’s eyes were glued to the fabric. She had stared at this tapestry many a time while they had used Grimmauld Place as a hideout during the war. The names had been completely singed.

“Forgiveness. Apparently the creator of the family tree was rather sentimental.”

There was a slight smile tugging at Draco’s mouth and she couldn’t resist. Hermione pushed up on her toes to kiss him, smoothing his hair back and letting her fingers dance across his neck. “Forgiveness is powerful magic, too.”

“Apparently.” His arms wrapped around her as he kissed her hungrily.

A loud _pop_! startled them apart. “Dinner is being ready now.”

“Thank you, Tilly,” Draco gritted out.

Hermione laughed and took a seat.

“I pay them, you know.” He looked a little sheepish, remembering her stance on house elves.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I could hear you thinking it.” He smirked as they tucked in.

Draco hadn’t been joking when he said the house elves went all out. Hermione was absolutely stuffed as they made their way back to Draco’s room. He had been especially frisky tonight, his foot grazing her underneath the table, his hands roaming all over her as he led her through the Manor. She had half a mind to forget the uniform and just let him fuck her on the stairs—but no, she had promised a surprise and she was prepared to deliver. Even if she had to charm the clothes to fit after that lavish meal. And she certainly wasn’t about to get caught shagging by his mother.

She pried his wandering fingers off her hips when they finally made their way back into his bedroom. “Wait here. I’m going to fetch your surprise.”

He nibbled her ear before letting her go. “Do hurry, Granger. I’m an impatient man.”

His sexy smirk sent shivers of want through her. She grabbed her bag quickly and headed into his washroom to change. It still fit fine, even if it was slightly uncomfortable from her indulgence. Luckily, she had prepared for every situation. She located the potion she’d packed earlier and downed it, at once alleviating her bloated feeling. _Much better_.

She left the top several buttons of her oxford undone and pulled down the cardigan just enough to show the wealth of cleavage she had stuffed into her push up bra. Her skirt was sinfully short and when she bent over, a good portion of her bum was visible—thanks to the black thong she had on. She attached the belts on her garter to the thigh high stockings she’d just rolled on, and grinned at her reflection in the mirror. The overall effect was very “naughty school girl.”

“Almost done in there, Granger?” His muffled voice filtered through the door.

“Coming!” she sang. She stepped back into the room.

“Not without me, you—” he stopped speaking as soon as he saw her, at a complete loss for words.

“I’m afraid I’ve been a very bad girl, Professor Malfoy.” She twirled a lock of her hair, which she had swept into messy pigtails for the look. In a softer voice, she added, “Happy Birthday, Draco. You like it?”

“Fuck.” He was so hard. Her tits looked incredible in the old school jumper, but more than that—he was remembering her, how she used to be, how he used to _see_ her. He definitely had always had a _thing_ for Hermione Granger. He crossed the room to her and cupped her face. “I _love_ it. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

She kissed him quickly, then turned around. Bending over slightly, she looked over her shoulder to see his reaction. “Have I been naughty, professor? Whatever will you do to me?”

Draco swallowed hard but took the hint. He shrugged off his outer robe and rolled up the crisp powder blue shirtsleeves of his button-down. “You dirty little swot. Coming in my classroom like you know it all. I think your punishment should be a firm spanking. Does that sound fair?”

Hermione felt her mouth go dry, remembering how much she liked it the last time he had spanked her spontaneously. “Y-yes, Sir.”

The word ‘sir’ seemed to go straight to his cock, his trousers suddenly much too restricting. “And just how many do you think you deserve, Miss Granger?”

“Isn’t seven the most magically powerful number?” Her voice was breathy.

Draco cleared his throat. Merlin, she was going to make him come in his pants. “Come here then, swot. Bend over.” He beckoned her to where he was standing at the foot of the bed.

Hermione sauntered over to him, swaying her hips as sexily as possible before bending over the foot of the bed. She heard his sharp intake of breath as he looked at her.

“I’ve said this before, but your arse is perfect.” He broke character only momentarily, his hands immediately going to her exposed cheeks to massage the warm flesh. “I’m going to need you to count for me, Miss Granger.”

His finger played with the waistband of her thong, letting it snap back into place. Hermione gasped. “Yes, Sir!”

Draco relished the sight of having her spread out and vulnerable before him. The way she trusted him stirred something deep within. Her gave her one last squeeze before his hand reared back, landing a firm slap to the right side of her bum. It reddened from the contact and he nearly lost it.

“One,” she counted dutifully.

“Good girl.” He had to take the time to praise her in between so he could catch his breath.

_Slap_!

“Two,” Hermione cried out.

On the third smack, Draco pulled aside her panties to find her already wet. He wasn’t sure how he would make it through the rest of them. He swirled his finger around her clit a few times before withdrawing and landing another hard slap.

“Four,” she whined. Fuck, she was so turned on.

He just wanted to give up and push into her. But he forced himself to continue, alternating cheeks as he went. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

“Seven!” Hermione’s voice cracked on the last one, her face pressed into the mattress. She was a sticky mess, bucking herself against the bed and needing him inside her _now_.

“Fucking hell,” Draco breathed as he rubbed her swollen arse cheek and placed a delicate kiss there. She was so beautiful.

“Please, Draco.” How could he possibly resist her?

He dropped his pants to the floor, rucked her skirt up the rest of the way, shoved the flimsy material of the thong to the side, and entered her in one smooth thrust.

They both groaned as he filled her. She was so wet he slid in easily, her muscles gripping him tight. “Granger,” Draco murmured as he started to move. She felt like pure sin, but somehow like absolution as well. The world just made sense when he was buried deep inside her.

Hermione gripped the sheets, moaning, as he pounded into her. The friction was almost too much after the spankings, her sensitive nipples grinding against the bed as they moved. He had taken her from behind before, but this was something else. She knew she’d be sore in the morning, but all she wanted was _more_.

His fingers dug into her hips as he admired the red splotches across her arse—his handiwork. Never in a million years would he have imagined that Hermione would dig out her old school uniform for him, but here he was: defiling the Gryffindor princess in his bedroom. He grabbed one of her pigtails, tugging slightly to bend her head back as he pistoned into her. She gasped as he kissed the skin of her neck. He slowly worked her cardigan and shirt up, exposing her spine to him so he could stroke her skin while he fucked her.

“Oh god, Draco,” she moaned.  
His hips started to speed up and he knew he couldn’t hold on much longer. Letting go of her hips, Draco pulled her back slightly until her pelvis was just up off the bed, snaking a hand underneath her to rub her clit. “Be a good girl and come for me, Miss Granger.”

“Fuck,” she cried, bucking beneath him as his fingers increased their pressure.

Soon she was exploding around him, her walls clenching him as she rode out her pleasure. He fucked her through it, giving it a few more deep thrusts before he cried out, shooting his release inside her.

He pulled out slowly and collapsed next to her. “Best birthday ever.”

Hermione smiled, her face red with exertion. “Good. I’m glad.” She reached over and smoothed his hair back. Her heart swelled.

 

* * *

 

Hermione couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t necessarily being in a different bed, or the fact that she hadn’t been back to this house since she was tortured in it—in fact, it  actually looked so different that she was unable to locate the specific room where it happened. Merlin knew Draco wore her out enough to be knackered, but her mind wouldn’t stop whirring. Because she was falling for him—hard—and she wasn’t sure what to do about it. She quietly slipped out of his arms, threw on a robe, and decided to wander the manor a bit.

Before long, she was utterly lost and wondering why her sleep deprived brain had thought this was a good idea. She wasn’t sure how she ended up in the wing she was currently wandering—the place was so damned huge. But the soft sound of a cup being set against a saucer grabbed her attention, and had her unknowingly meandering straight into Narcissa Malfoy’s sitting room. She froze immediately at the doorway. Apparently Narcissa was in the habit of having tea, alone, at midnight.

“Come in, dear,” the older witch called softly, not looking up as she sipped from her cup.

Hermione hesitantly entered, unsure if the woman knew who it was she was beckoning. “Hello, Mrs. Malfoy. It’s, _erm_ , just me. Hermione Granger.”

She looked up at her, an amused twinkle in her eye. “Call me Narcissa, Minister. I knew it was you. Your footfall is different than Draco’s.” Hermione nodded and moved closer after Narcissa gestured to an empty chair. The years had been kind to Narcissa Malfoy. Her hair was still a silvery blonde, and there were only a few fine lines around her ice blue eyes.

She smiled as she sat down. “Please call meHermione, then, Narcissa.” After all, she was shagging her son.  There was no need for such formalities.  
“Trouble sleeping, Hermione?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. And yourself?”

“I have had issues sleeping ever since Lucius passed. Would you like some tea? It’s decaf.”

“Yes, thank you.” She took the proffered cup. She thought about saying something regarding Lucius, but the look on Narcissa’s face told her she was eager to discuss other topics.

“I’m sorry for your sleeping troubles, but I must admit I’m glad you wandered in here, Hermione.” A subtle smile crossed her features as she studied her. “You’re good for Draco. I haven’t seen him this happy in years.”

Hermione stilled, letting her rather large gulp of hot tea ease down her throat. “Yes, well, he has been quite the impressive advisor. My job has been immensely less stressful since he joined the Ministry.”

“Hmmm,” said Narcissa. “That’s wonderful, but I’m talking about your personal relationship, of course.” She sipped her tea thoughtfully, her gaze as searching as ever.

“I—um, I’m not really—”

“It’s okay, dear. I haven’t told anyone. And Draco hasn’t even _told_ me anything. I just knew that something was going on from the way he’s been acting. You’re the only woman he talks about. And he just has this glow when he discusses you. I can tell you’re important to him.”

“Oh. I see.” She cleared her throat. “I can’t imagine that I would be an acceptable choice for your family, and I’m not really sure what we _are_ exactly, but he makes me happy.” Her cheeks flushed at the admission.

Narcissa studied her for a moment, her eyes a bit glassy. “Have you ever been really thankful to be so horribly wrong about something?” Her voice faltered as she spoke, and Hermione stared at her in astonishment. It was the closest to an apology she would get, but far more than she ever expected.

“I think I know what you mean.” This was getting uncomfortable, and she had the sudden urge to be back in Draco’s bed. “Excuse me, Narcissa. Thank you for the tea.”

“Certainly, dear. Anytime.” She was almost out of the room when she heard, “Hermione?”

She turned slowly. “Yes?”

“For what it’s worth, I’d be delighted to welcome you to the family.”

“I—thank you, Narcissa.” She nodded once and left as quickly as her feet would carry her.

 

* * *

 

Thursday passed by in a daze, both Draco and Hermione exhausted from their activities Wednesday night. So by the time Friday rolled around, all Draco could think about was the weekend. He only had two of them left before Scorpius would be home again.

The last thing he wanted to do was meet with Harry Potter, but he had a memo on his desk and was forced to make the trek to the DMLE floor.

“You rang, Potter? Thought we weren’t meeting this week because of your busy schedule.”

“Have a seat, Malfoy.”

Draco did as requested but raised a brow when Harry locked the door wandlessly and muttered a silencing charm. “Uh, what’s with the—”

“How long have you been shagging Hermione?”

He blanched, his heart hammering. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re ta—”

“Oh come off it, Malfoy. I know it’s happening. I went to surprise her with a coffee the other day. The door was locked and I heard… _noises_.”

Impossible. They had resolved not to shag at the office anymore… except for that one time (or was it two?). They kept breaking all their own rules. He tried his best to look nonplussed. “And why do you think it was me?” He cursed his voice for coming out noticeably higher.

Harry leveled him with a glare. “I actually didn’t know for certain, but you just confirmed it for me.” The sneer forming on his lips was almost familiar.

“Fuck.” Draco rubbed the back of his neck and let out a nervous laugh. “Well, who’s the Slytherin now?”

“The Sorting Hat _did_ give me a choice…” He looked wistful for a moment, but then narrowed his eyes. “Don’t change the subject. How long, Malfoy?”

Draco’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “I guess maybe two months—three tops?”

“Merlin’s beard. You do know she _just_ got divorced, right?”

“Really? I was under the impression she was still married.”

“Malfoy—”

“Fine, Potter. Yes, I know. I’m her advisor, after all.”

“Exactly, which is why you _know_ how unethical this is. Not to mention how it must be messing with her emotions.”

“Okay, firstly, Granger is not some _delicate flower_ that I’m taking advantage of. She knew exactly what she was getting into. And for your information, _she_ came onto _me_.”

“I hardly believe that Hermione would…” he trailed off, noticing the murderous look Draco gave him, and cleared his throat. “Be that as it may, I can’t imagine this is anything other than a rebound for her—and one that could get you both sacked, might I add.”

Draco felt his mask falter for a second before snapping back into place. He knew he was more attached than Hermione was, but he had hoped she didn’t just see him as a rebound. His mouth formed a thin line as he thought about what to say next. “I know.”

“Which is why I think you should end it.”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Where did Potter get off telling him what to do? “I appreciate your concern, but I think this is between Granger and myself.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Fucking hell.”

“What?” Draco demanded.

“You’re in love with her.” It wasn’t phrased as a question.

Draco stared at him for a moment. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he shot back.

“Sorry to tell you, mate, but it’s all over your face. And of course you are. Why wouldn’t you be?” He leaned back, still staring at Draco. “You two are the most passionate people I know. Merlin, it makes perfect sense. You’re both smart, argumentative… I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.”

Draco squirmed in his seat. He never should have let his guard down around Potter. “I’m not sure I like your tone.”

Harry leaned forward. “You have to end it, Malfoy. _Especially_ if you love her. Don’t you see how damaging this could be to her career?” His voice had a frantic edge to it.

He rubbed his face and leaned over, groaning into his hands. “Of course I see. I am constantly worried someone will catch us. I just—I can’t deny her anything. I am royally fucked.”

“Jesus. How did this happen? Never mind, I don’t want to know. Just tell me you’ll consider it. Before things get further out of hand. You might not believe me, Draco, but I’ve come to think of you as a friend, and I don’t want to see you hurt, either.”

“A _friend_... Really, Potter?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Maybe more like a frenemy.”

“Fair enough.” Draco chuckled darkly as he stood up. “No promises, but I’ll take it into consideration.”

The meeting with Potter left him in a terribly sour mood as he walked back to his office. He hadn’t seen Hermione since their morning meeting, but he was hoping they were still getting together tonight. Should tell her that her best friend knew about their illicit activities? He was certain that Hermione would feel betrayed if she found out he _didn’t_ tell her, and yet, Harry had given him the choice...

Draco was busy getting his things together when he noticed the manila envelope sitting on his desk. _Strange, that hadn’t been there before_.

He leaned over, picked it up, and opened it. He dropped it back down as soon as he saw the contents. _No. No, no, no_.

Inside was a picture of he and Hermione kissing on the stoop of the hotel. He watched as he leaned in to touch her lips, over and over, until he felt sick. Attached was a note—

> _We need to talk_
> 
> _-B._

“Fuck!” Draco kicked his chair over. He stopped himself before he tore the whole office apart, breathing heavily for a few moments before tucking the photo back inside the folder.

“Shit,” he cursed again, running his fingers through his hair.

It had been a long time, but he was still a Malfoy, still a Slytherin. He could figure this out.

_I hope_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter used up the rest of my pre-written scenes so we're going update to update now to the end. I'm hoping to maintain every other week, but we'll see how it goes!
> 
> Come say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/monsterleadme), if you like. :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the pain train! Many thanks to [raven_maiden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_maiden/pseuds/raven_maiden).

The bar was dark and musty. Draco hadn’t been there in years. He wound his way through the seedy wizards and puffs of cigar smoke to the table in the back corner. “Really, Zabini?”

“Ambience, my friend. You used to appreciate it.”

“I used to be a lot of things that I’m not anymore.” Draco’s mouth hardened into a line.

Blaise gave a hearty laugh as he motioned for him to have a seat. “You also used to refrain from fucking mudbloods.”

“Watch yourself, Blaise. And don’t use that word.” Draco slid into the seat, tossing his companion a dirty look.

“My, my aren’t we testy? Perhaps this is more than just a little shag on the side...”

“What do you  _ want _ ?”

“I want a lot of things, Drake. I tried to go about this the easy way, but you had to go and get on your moral high horse.”

“I couldn’t just—”

“No. You used to be one of us, man. What happened to your Slytherin side?”

“I am  _ still _ a Slytherin.”

“Well, you could’ve fooled me.”

Draco frowned and flagged down the waitress—a witch wearing not much at all. He idly wondered what her father must think and then cringed at how old he’d become. Maybe Blaise had a point. “Firewhiskey—make it a double.” 

Blaise smiled. “There he is.”

 

* * *

 

Hermione hadn’t meant to, but as it the day drew closer that Rose would return from Hogwarts, she had started to withdraw from Draco a little. She knew they wouldn’t be able to see each other as much since he would be busy with Scorpius—and honestly, it still scared her, the depth of her feelings for him.

If he noticed, he hadn’t said anything. In fact, she thought he might be doing the same thing. After all, they had both agreed to keep things casual—even though they both knew it ran far deeper than that by now. She decided not to dig too much for fear of what she’d find.

It had been several days since he’d been over. He also hadn’t asked her back to the Manor. Then on an inconsequential Thursday, he looked up without warning from across the desk. “Shall I come over tonight?”

It took her off guard, but she missed him. “Y-yes.”

“Good.” He smirked, rose, kissed her temple, and departed the office.

That night he bent her over the kitchen counter and took her from behind. It was so forceful and frenzied that Hermione knocked over her entire bowl of fruit. She found she didn’t care too much. He didn’t stay the night.

Rose’s first weekend back in Hermione’s flat went swimmingly. They baked chocolate chip cookies, painted their nails, and watched a bunch of Netflix original rom-coms. It was nice having time with her daughter again, until the subject of boys came up.

“So, Mum—you get back out there yet? Gone on any dates?” 

“I—” she didn’t know what to say.  _ Yes, I decided to take your advice and shag the living daylights out of your classmate’s dad? _ But her face betrayed her even though she’d resolved not to say a word.

“Ooh, you’re blushing! That means yes.” Her grin was infectious, and Hermione had almost forgotten how much fun it was to just be herself around Rose—how well they got on.

“It’s nothing serious, yet.”  _ Lie. _ “If it gets to that point you’ll definitely meet him.”  _ You’ve already met him _ .

“Well I’m just happy you’re happy. You look better than you have in ages—no offense.” 

Hermione smiled at her daughter’s candidness. That was definitely the Weasley shining though.

 

* * *

 

Malfoy Manor had always had impressive gardens. Draco rarely got to spend time in them anymore, but he decided to take a walk to clear his head. He had agreed to play Zabini’s game for now, in return for him not turning in the photos of him and Hermione to the press. He knew she’d be disappointed if she found out he was agreeing to blackmail, but what other choice did he have?

He needed something on Blaise in order to get out from under his thumb. “Tilly!”

His favorite house elf appeared in front of him with a loud  _ crack! _ “Yes, Master?”

“I need you to follow Mr. Zabini for a while and report on all his activities to me. But—and this is very important—you cannot  _ under any circumstances _ let him see you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master Draco. Tilly can be very careful. No one will see Tilly.” 

“Great. Have Mimsy take over your duties while you’re gone.”

“Yes, Master. Tilly is thanking you for this special assignment.” She disapparated with another  _ crack! _ ,  leaving Draco alone again.

He stared at the Fanged Geraniums, noting the teeth were coming in nicely this season. He’d hopefully have the opportunity to utilize them in some potions when they were fully mature—Merlin knew it had been awhile since he’d been down to his laboratory. Granger had been keeping him too busy for that.

“I always hated these plants. Rather vulgar for a common garden, don’t you think?” His mother had sneaked up on him without warning.

“Good Afternoon, Mother.” He kissed her on the cheek. “They are quite ugly, but they’re also useful.”

“Yes, well. Maybe have some hydrangeas planted, too.” Narcissa winked as she moved past him, seemingly on her own stroll about the grounds.

It seemed like such a long time since Draco had seen her outside. Her teal robes sparkled in the sun—she had broken out her summer wardrobe as well. “You’re looking well today.”

“Yes, well who can blame me? My boys are all at home and happy.”

At the mention of his son, Draco looked up. “Where is Scorpius, anyway?”

“Oh, he left for the Potters’ after breakfast. He said he’d already told you.” She let her long fingers slide over the Asphodel leaves.

“He didn’t, but he probably thought he did.” He rolled his eyes, but a smirk found its way to his lips. “Of course he’s with Albus. Those two are attached at the hip.”

“After the rough childhood you had, I’m just happy he has such a good friend.”

Draco’s chest tightened, hearing his mother talk that way. It was rare for a Malfoy to admit their true feelings, and even rarer to admit their faults. He swallowed thickly. “Me too.”

“You know, I spoke with the Minister when she was here the other week.”

“Oh?” He hadn’t realized.

“She has trouble sleeping, too.” She offered him a sly grin. “I told her how good she is for you. I know you probably don’t want my opinion, but—I’m really pleased you found her, Draco. I think she’d fit in well here.”

He cleared his throat. “Yes, well. Be that as it may… there have been a few complications.”

“Yes, yes. I heard your conversation with Tilly. If you need my help at all, dear, you need only ask.”

He didn’t know why he was surprised after all these years. Narcissa Malfoy always stayed one step ahead of everyone else around her. Draco simply nodded.

Satisfied, she turned back towards the main house. “Tea?”

“Sounds lovely, Mother.” He held out his arm for her to take.

 

* * *

 

“Are you absolutely sure, Draco? This is the best use for the funds?” Hermione was giving him a quizzical look as she went over the scroll in front of her. She tapped her quill absentmindedly on the desk as she read the fine print again.

“In the long run, perhaps not. But thinking of the present, if we keep the Diagon Alley business owners happy, then you’ll be guaranteed reelection when it comes up.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but Draco hated that he was bending even a little to Zabini’s agenda—not to mention that Granger would have him by the balls if she knew the reason he was leaning this way. Blaise had investments in nearly half the businesses there now, and assured Draco a little kickback would ensure the Minister stayed in their good graces.

She looked indecisive for a moment, but then seemed to concede something within. “I suppose you’re right. If we placate them now, they will be more likely to be amenable to a budget change in the future.” She smiled, glad for his political brain. “I knew you were more than just a pretty face.”

“Oh so I’m pretty, am I?”

Hermione winked. “Very.” She brought her quill down and signed the scroll. Then she rose and gave him a chaste kiss.

The rest of the week passed in a similar fashion. Blaise didn’t have constant favors to ask of  Draco, but he felt the shadow of the axe hanging over his head all the same. Tilly would report back nightly, but there was nothing of interest yet. He was getting frustrated. And all this sneaking around coupled with Scorpius being home had really cut into his time with Hermione. He either needed to come clean or figure out a course of action soon. She would be furious with him if he told her about the photo and the blackmail.

By the time Friday rolled around, he was dying for some time alone with her that wasn’t in the office. Besides Zabini, Potter had also been scrutinizing their every move. Draco knew the conversation between them was private, but he couldn’t help but wonder what Granger would do if she knew her best friend had asked him to break it off.

Draco stopped by the cafe and grabbed two teas before heading up for his daily meeting with the Minister. He set one of the paper cups in front of her, clearing his throat. “Come to the Manor tonight.”

“I’m sorry, was that a request or a demand?” Hermione cocked an eyebrow at him. 

Draco sighed and sat down, taking a long sip of his tea before rephrasing. “Would you like to come to the Manor tonight? Scorpius is staying over at the Potters’ and I feel like we haven’t had any proper time together lately.”

It was true. Hermione had noticed that they were spending less and less time together. It had honestly felt pretty lonely without him sleeping over every night, but she knew he was busy with his son, and she didn’t want to push the issue. “Yes, actually that sounds rather lovely. Rose is staying with a friend as well, so I wasn’t getting her until tomorrow anyway.”

“Perfect.”

 

* * *

 

Hermione packed a spare set of clothes in her handbag—the one always fitted with an extendable charm. She didn’t want to be presumptuous, but she figured she’d be staying the night with Draco. The racy emerald green lingerie set she had on underneath her robes all but ensured that he’d want her to.

No sooner did she pop out of the fireplace in his parlor than he had her pinned against the opposite wall, the green puff of Floo powder not even fully dissipated. His lips hungrily devoured her, his tongue slipping in to taste her. When he pulled back, she murmured, “Eager, are we?”

Draco ran his hand from her hip, up, up, lingering briefly over her breast and giving it a brief squeeze before continuing on to her exposed collarbone and wrapping around her throat, his thumb rubbing her gently. “I’ve missed you—missed this.”

“Prove it,” she goaded before smashing her mouth against his.

Draco pressed her harder into the wall and she moaned as his lips left her mouth to roam her jaw, her ear, her neck. His knee came up to nudge her thighs apart. “Granger,” he groaned before taking her mouth again.

They were so lost in each other, they didn’t hear the fireplace roar to life again, another blonde head popping through. “Dad? M-minister?!”

Draco immediately released Hermione and swiveled around to see his son staring at them, aghast. “Scorpius? What are you doing back?”

“I forgot my broom, and Al wanted to play Quidditch. I—am just gonna go grab it really quick. I’m not even here.” He tore out of the room, beet red, and raced towards the grand staircase leading up to the bedrooms.

Draco looked at Hermione, whose mouth was opening and closing with no sound. “I think I need to go talk to him.”

She nodded, sitting down in a nearby chair. Her lips were swollen, cheeks flushed. 

“Don’t leave—okay, Hermione?”

“Okay,” she whispered. He barely heard it.

Draco took the stairs two at a time, making his way to Scorpius’s room. He found him sitting on his bed holding his broom with a dazed look on his face. “Hey—”

“Hermione Granger, Dad? Really?”

“I know it must be quite a shock.” He sat down on the bed next to his son.

Scorpius laughed. “Not really, but you do realize this ruins my chances with Rose.”

“I thought you had gotten over that?”

When he turned towards him, Draco realized how much he and his son looked alike. Right down to the sarcastic face he was giving him. “I’m playing the long game, Dad. Doing the ‘friends first’ route.”

“Right, well—it’s not like I’m  _ marrying _ Hermione.”

“But it’s only a matter of time, right? Come on, Dad. I know how Malfoys work when it comes to love.”

This was getting out of hand quickly. “Who said anything about love?”

“You haven’t even gone out on a date since Mum died, and now you’re what—just snogging  _ Minister for Magic Hermione Granger _ in our parlor for shits and giggles?”

“Language!” That earned him an eyeroll. “I—it’s complicated, Scorp. We work together and it’s not exactly allowed to date.”

“Oh.” He fiddled with his broom some more. “Well, for the record— if she’s as amazing as her daughter then I approve. Besides, if we were step-siblings, it would be almost like  _ forbidden love _ .” He waggled his eyebrows as he stood up.

“Fuck,” Draco muttered.

“Language!” Scorpius laughed. “Well, I really should be getting back to Al’s. Tell Ms. Granger I’m sorry for interrupting.”

“Will do.” Draco watched his son go, heart swelling with pride. How he had managed to raise such a mature and accepting young man he wasn’t sure.

He headed back down the stairs, making a beeline straight for the parlor where he had left his lover. He certainly owed her a long night of making it up to her. “Granger?” he called as he entered the room.

But she was already gone.

 

* * *

 

Hermione sat on her couch and cried. She wasn’t sure why Scorpius catching them kissing had thrown her so, but she couldn’t stay. She kept thinking over and over,  _ What if it had been Rose? _ She was lying to everyone she loved—even Harry.

And what even was this thing with her and Draco Malfoy anyway? The ache in her chest told her that it was something she wasn’t ready to confront—something she wasn’t ready to tell Harry, Ron, or Rose about. She’d really gone and cocked things up this time.

Feeling the pain sharpen in her chest, she let the tears fall as she laid down on the couch, pulling the blanket off the back to wrap around herself. It was just supposed to be fun—some good sex, someone warm in her bed. She wasn’t supposed to go and fall for him. But she knew as she lay there that going back to the way things were before wasn’t an option. The more she thought about Draco not being in her life, the more it hurt.

When the sunlight became annoying enough, shining right through the gaps in her blinds, she woke and tried to stretch the stiffness out of her body. Everything ached—her muscles, her head, her heart. She decided she needed some strong coffee and a little protein before Rose was to arrive. She padded into the kitchen and put a pot on.

 

* * *

 

Draco didn’t sleep much last night. He figured Hermione needed space after what had happened. Still, he had told her not to leave, and she left anyway. This wasn’t sustainable. He cared about her too much to let this trainwreck continue. Maybe it would be best if they took a break, at least until he got the Blaise situation under control. 

The very thought made him nauseated. Besides Scorpius and his mother, she was the most important person in his life. Worst yet, he hadn’t told her that. Perhaps Potter had a point. If all the sneaking around and lying was having a negative effect on her, then it might be for the best if they called it quits. 

Her job, her reputation—all of it was more important than their little fling. He couldn’t even call her his girlfriend in public. They didn’t even go on dates.

Draco rolled out of bed, his body protesting from the lack of actual rest. He sat as his desk to pen her a letter.

> _ Dear Hermione, _
> 
> _ Do you think you could spare a few minutes this evening to meet me somewhere? We need to talk. _
> 
> _ D.M. _

It was short and to the point, but he hoped she would feel the underlying urgency.

Rose was in the shower (apparently the water pressure was better there than at Ron’s) when Hermione startled to the sound of pecking at her window. She looked up over her third cup of coffee to see Draco’s haughty owl. She quickly let him in, giving him a bit of bacon while she untied the message from his leg.

She read his note several times.  _ Good. I’ll be able to say what I need to as well _ . Tears pricked at her eyes as she thought about the difficult conversation ahead of them. She wrote him back to tell him it would be best if they met in Muggle London, so as not to be seen. She’d take Rose out for dinner and excuse herself to the loo during the meal. 

Rose was excited at the prospect of going out for dinner with mother. “Not that I don’t enjoy your cooking, Mum.”

“It’s okay. I know I’m not the best cook.” Hermione looked around at her spotless kitchen that she rarely used.

“You’re the best at everything else—we can’t all be great at  _ everything _ .” She sauntered off to her room. “Are we going fancy or casual?” she called from down the hallway. 

Hermione thought about it for a moment. “Somewhere in between I suppose. You could wear that new navy dress if you want.” She wandered off to her own closet, looking through her clothes. What did you wear to tell your not-quite-boyfriend that things are getting out of hand and you might need to step back? 

Black. Black said serious business. Most Muggle women kept a ‘little black dress’ on hand for special occasions, and Hermione had always believed in having one for practical reasons. It was simple—A-line with a boatneck and cap sleeves, classic. It would do perfectly.

They left a few hours early so they could walk around the city a bit before dinner. Rose loved watching the tourists, and Hermione needed the fresh air and exercise to clear her head. She had worn sensible kitten heels so her feet wouldn’t be killing her later. They walked along the Thames, enjoying the slight breeze. It was a balmy but not overly hot day, perfect for a little people watching. 

Hermione saw an older couple holding hands as they stared across the water. The woman’s white hair danced in the wind and her husband smiled at her, laugh lines on his face evidence of a life well-lived. A pang of jealousy shot through her at how easy it was for them. When she had first started shagging Draco, it was about the lust—her insane attraction to him. But now? Now she wanted that picturesque domesticity for them, and she wasn’t sure if it would ever be possible.

“Mum, you alright?” Rose was watching her as she gazed at the couple.

“Oh—yeah. I’m fine, sweetheart. Let’s keep walking.”

They found themselves in Charing Cross, at a little Italian place called L’ulivo. The exposed brick and intimate atmosphere seemed more appropriate to couples than a mother-daughter date, but they were both in the mood for pasta. And there happened to be a little alcove across the street that would afford her and Draco some privacy.

 

* * *

 

Hermione sipped her glass of red, feeling more than a little anxious. Rose was happily eating her gnocchi, making little contented sounds every now and then. Draco would be outside soon and she’d have to excuse herself. She had it planned down to the second and hoped Rose would be too wrapped up in her pasta to care that she was gone for several minutes.

A shot of sparks went off from the alcove across the street and Hermione knew that was the signal. “I’ll be right back. I have to use the facilities. Don’t let them take my penne.” She winked at Rose and slipped off towards the back. Once in the bathroom, she apparated to the alcove across the street.

Draco took one look at Hermione in her black dress, the boatneck showcasing her collarbones, the way it nipped in at her slender waist, accentuating the hips he loved to grab as he—

“Draco?”

He cleared his throat. “Oh, right. I guess we should talk. You look fantastic, by the way.”

She couldn’t help the slight blush that stained her cheeks. “Thank you.”

Merlin, she made this even harder. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and tell her he’d quit—tell her everything about Blaise Zabini and his stupid plan, but no. He had to put her first and this was the best way. Deep down, he was still a Slytherin. His poker face and ability to lie was legendary at this point, right? He took a deep breath. “Look, Granger. This isn’t working.”

Hermione looked up. His silver eyes were impassive, his mask in place. It had been so long since she’d seen this colder side of Draco, she almost forgot he existed. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? And if so, why did it hurt so much when she was planning on telling him the same thing? “Y-you might be right. I’m sorry I panicked and left when Scorpius caught us, but—it just became too real.”

“Yes, well—I fear this whole thing has gotten out of hand. We’ve had our fun though. Right, Granger?” It was tearing him apart inside to be so callous. He just wanted to touch her. 

She blinked, feeling the beginning of tears.  _ No, do not let him see you cry. You were going to say as much _ . “Yeah, fun.” She bit her lip, choking back a sob. “I could lose my job, Draco. We both could. I never meant for it to go this far.”  

Hearing her echo the sentiment only made him feel worse. She really wanted to end it—he was just trying to look out for her. “Right. I guess it’s settled then. Back to being colleagues and nothing more.”

Something shattered in Hermione’s chest hearing the words ‘nothing more.’ She wanted to rage and scream at him.  _ Don’t you want to fight for us? Don’t you believe in us? _ But what more could she have expected from Draco Malfoy? She merely nodded, an unbidden tear escaping to roll down her cheek.

Draco looked down at her and saw her crying. Could this possibly be hurting her as much as it was hurting him?  _ Doubtful _ . He reached for her as if to wipe the tear away, then thought better of it. If he touched her, he wouldn’t be able to stop. “See you Monday,” he said quietly before turning and disapparating.

Hermione reached out and braced herself on the wall, allowing herself just a moment to feel the pain. It felt worse than when she had asked Ron for a divorce, the searing agony inside like a knife to her heart. She cried for only a moment, wiping back the tears and taking a deep breath before she apparated back into the bathroom. Rose needed her. She mustn’t worry her. 

She surveyed her appearance in the mirror and cast a quick glamour charm to hide the puffiness under her eyes. Then she joined Rose again at their table.

“Everything come out okay?” said her daughter, with a cheeky Weasley grin.

“Rose!” But it was just what her heart needed for a little levity. “Yes, it all went as expected.” Her heart sank at her own admission. She took a big bite of her now cold pasta and downed the rest of her wine.

She felt like she could drink a whole vineyard at this point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The difference between biscuits and cookies are elaborated on [here](https://www.foodbeast.com/news/cookies-versus-biscuits/). I wanted Hermione and Rose to be eating the chewy kind, so even though they're British, it's still technically a cookie. This isn't me being American-centric, but making a purposeful choice LOL.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait! The good news is I am nearly done with chapter 13 and we're in the home stretch. Thank you as always to my illustrious beta, raven_maiden!

Draco’s head was pounding and he was sore all over. It felt like he had a hangover. In a way, he did—only it was his heart that was aching and sick from the previous night’s events. But he would stay the course. Until Tilly found out something useful regarding Blaise, he didn’t have much of a choice. The incident with Scorpius had only proven that they had gotten too careless, letting their emotions overtake their logic. 

He wasn’t surprised that he’d let things get away from him, but Hermione? She had always been so practical. Maybe he’d underestimated the effect he had on the stubborn witch. Merlin, he missed her already. He dragged himself through his weekend, not really allowing himself to feel much of anything. He put on a smile to have tea with his mother and Scorpius, but other than that, he tended to his tasks around the Manor with complete apathy.

When Monday came, he almost wanted to owl in sick again. The thought of resuming daily meetings with Granger was painful. At least before, he knew he’d have the option later to snog her senseless when he could no longer handle the tension. Now it would be like when he had first started and the visions of her writhing beneath him were only fantasy. Only now he had months of actual memories to haunt him. He wasn’t sure he could just pretend like they never happened and paint on a smile when he was dying inside.

Ignoring the maelstrom of negativity in his brain, he forced himself to get to the office on time. He braced himself for their daily meeting, his chest beating a reckless rhythm. At least she had worn drab olive robes to work that morning. Maybe she had even done it intentionally so as to not provoke his lust. He tried to comfort himself with that thought as she silently read through some scrolls before looking up at him. But the simple fact of the matter was that she was gorgeous in any color, any state of dress. His gaze lingered a bit too long, staring at her plump bottom lip as she worried it with her teeth.

“Are you going to sit, Draco?” Hermione arched her eyebrow.

“Yes, of course.” Fuck, she was so sexy when annoyed. He needed to throw his walls up quickly. His eyes wandered across her desk. He hadn’t brought her tea this morning, but she still had a steaming cup next to her quill. It seemed like Sally had picked up his slack.

Their meeting was uneventful and awkward, with neither of them exchanging even the slightest of pleasantries. Hermione was avoiding eye contact like a case of Spattergroit. “Everything looks in order here. I’ll have Sally bring this down to the Department of International Magical Cooperation today.” 

Her businesslike tone and the lack of smile on her face cut him to the core, but he couldn’t very well show it. On the outside he was the picture of calm, cool, and collected. That Malfoy bravado really was invaluable at times like these. “Excellent. And I have my meeting with the Muggle PM tomorrow.”

Hermione’s head popped up with genuine interest. “How is that going?”

“Stressful. All the Muggles are frazzled over her replacement and the transition. But not much for us to worry about, at least.” He offered her a smirk, but his heart wasn’t in it. 

“Yes, at least there’s that. Thank you, Advisor.”

“You’re welcome, Minister.” He left her office, closing the door behind him with a sigh. Before, he would linger after their morning meeting, getting work done in her office instead of his own. Now he felt aimless. He wasn’t ready to be alone with his thoughts just yet, so instead he did something his younger self would have found especially shameful—seek out Harry Potter for company.

He stumbled slightly as he got off the lift on Level 2, narrowly avoiding some soaring interdepartmental memos. He swore the colorful paper airplanes were purposely attacking him.

“Alright there, Malfoy?” Harry was in the corridor trying to suppress his laughter.

Draco gave one last scowl to the demon memos as they flitted away. He smoothed down his hair as he turned to Harry. “Not really, Potter. Can we talk?”

“Sure,” Harry led him back to his office and gestured for Draco to sit down. He mockingly steepled his fingers under his chin and took on a pious tone. “So what seems to be the problem?”

Draco just stared at him, his ire rising to the surface. _Perhaps this was a bad idea_.

“Oh,” he said softly, catching on. He put his hands down. “So you did it, then.”

He nodded tersely. “I did.”

“How’d she take it?”

“We, um—it was mutual. I think.” He was silent for a moment before he buried his face in his hands and groaned. “Scorpius caught us kissing.” Reliving the mortifying moment in front of Harry Potter was almost as bad as the initial experience.

Harry stifled a chuckle. “Rotten luck, mate. I’m sorry. You know, James walked in on me and Ginny once.”

Draco frowned. “Kissing?”

“No, um—it was _the other thing_. He ran out so fast, he tripped and fell on his arse. Ginny almost ran after to check on him.”

Despite himself, Draco started to chuckle. He had never wanted to imagine Potter having sex, but having someone to share in his embarrassment was oddly cathartic. Soon, Harry joined him and the two men were laughing riotously. 

He had needed that.

 

* * *

 

Hermione sighed as she read through some new proposals. One was regarding the issue of a new commemorative sickle with Dumblebore’s picture. It was a nice idea, but probably too expensive to put into practice. She’d have to run it by Draco. She missed him—the way they used to laugh over ridiculous anecdotes in _The Prophet_ , the way his hair would fall just over his eye and how she’d sweep it back for him, the way he’d bend her over her desk and shag her senseless. She bit her lip at the memory and forced her mind elsewhere.

This was torture. She had been feeling like he was taking it all in stride, while she was the only one who was suffering—though the way he looked at her this morning made her think it was all part of his act. He was always better at not showing his true feelings. Regardless, she knew if people found out, they could both lose their jobs. Maybe she should spend some time looking into dating rules within the Ministry. But she was fairly certain that there was very little on the books. It all seemed rather silly. After all, she was a single witch now—not to mention the leader of wizarding Britain. Why shouldn’t she be able to date who she wants?

It was fruitless to think about at the moment and given how distracted she felt, she needed to be anywhere but her office. She penned a quick memo to Sally that she was taking off the rest of the day. Then she owled Ron. It was the middle of the week, but she just really wanted to see Rose.

When she arrived at her old home, Rose let her in the door. “Mum!” Her daughter gave her a quick hug.

“Hi, sweetie!” Hermione looked around. “Your father at work?”

“Yup. It’s too hot outside to do anything, so I’ve just been reading today.”

Hermione perked up at that. Books were always a great distraction. “What are you reading?”

Rose showed her the cover. It was a Muggle young adult novel about an orphaned girl in the desert who discovers she has powers. “It’s a series—pretty good so far.”

“Sounds like it. How is everything here?” The kitchen looked clean, as well as everything else. It seemed the house wasn’t falling apart without her, which was both comforting and a little upsetting.

“Great! Dad’s been cooking almost every night. He’s made some delicious curries and pies.” Rose went to the fridge and scrounged around inside. “Are you hungry? I think there’s some leftovers from last night.”

“Actually, food sounds great.” She sat down at her old kitchen table while Rose reheated the food in the microwave—she couldn’t use magic yet at home, but Hermione had always thought magical reheating left a funny aftertaste, anyway.

After eating, they decided to play a Muggle card game, since Hermione refused to play Exploding Snap. She had taught Rose how to play Uno long before she got her Hogwarts acceptance letter, and they always had such fun playing as a family. Every so often, Hermione would charm a card to flip or fling itself back into the pile to which Rose would yell, “Cheater!”

This was how Ron came home to find them hours later—in a fit of laughter with cards flying all around the kitchen. A brief flash of concern passed over his face. But then he smiled wide and sat down to join them in a game. “Want to stay for dinner, ‘Mione?”

“Yes, I’d like that.” So she let her ex-husband cook beef wellington for them and it was the happiest she’d been in days. She almost forgot about the searing pain inside her chest, telling her something was incomplete.

 

* * *

 

It was a sweltering July day and Draco was glad for the weekend reprieve. Still meeting with Hermione daily was sheer agony at this point. Listening to her brilliant ideas and staring at her beautiful face while having to pretend like he was fine with not being with her in _every conceivable way_ was a feeling unlike any other he’d had before. This really only proved to himself one thing, though he was still hesitant to say the word out loud. He was no stranger to crying—he’d done a lot of it over the years. Last night he had dreamt of her: he had been holding her tightly when vines came out of the earth and snatched her away. When he woke up with tears streaming down his face, a shooting pain making its way through his chest, he knew. He’d never cried like that over a woman before. He loved her.

He scratched at his stubble as he wandered aimlessly through the Manor, finding himself outside Scorpius’s room. His son was actually home for a change and he chuckled when he looked in the open door to find him sprawled out on his floor, a sea of comic books around him. “What are you reading, Scorp?”

He held up the comic with a masked superhero in red and blue. Draco recognized it as the spider-something. “The Amazing Spider-Man Number Twenty-Five. He’s trying to save Mary Jane from Electro.”

Draco had no idea what he was talking about, but he loved how passionate his son was. “That sounds intense.”

“It is.” He got up and moved over to his desk. “I’ve been thinking. I want to make a Muggleborn superhero in my series. Maybe a girl.”

Draco tried to ignore the little pang in his chest. “I think that would be wonderful.”

Scorpius showed him some preliminary drawings, a lot of them bearing a striking resemblance to Rose but bustier. He had to laugh internally at that. But the drawings were really good, and he told him as much. To his surprise, Scorpius’s main hero didn’t look like himself but rather more like Albus, with dark hair and green eyes. _Everyone loves a Potter._

“You okay, Dad?” Scorpius asked after a while.

“Yes. I’ll be fine.” _Eventually_.

After he left his son, he continued his tour of the Manor. There were so many rooms, he sometimes forgot what a lot of them were. He passed by the library and realized he had never even shown it to Hermione. She would have loved it. He sighed and hoped he’d have the opportunity to show her one day.

Eventually he passed by a sitting room where he saw his mother conversing with Tilly. They were speaking just low enough that he couldn’t hear— but he knew that he’d given Tilly only one task recently. “Everything alright in here, Mother?”

She looked up, a mischievous smile gracing her lips. “Yes, dear. I was just giving Tilly some additional instructions for a rather interesting assignment she’s been working on.”

“What are you up to?” He stepped inside and sat down across from her.

“I know about the blackmail, Draco.”

His eyes widened just a bit before he regained composure. “How?”

“Do you really not know by now to never question my methods?” Narcissa had eyes and ears everywhere. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t brought it to her before.

“I’m listening…”

“I bet you didn’t think to have Blaise’s mistresses tailed.”

Draco sat forward in his chair. He hadn’t thought of that… or even known that Blaise was cheating on his sickly wife. “That’s—”

“Very Slytherin of me, I know.” She sat back, pleased with herself.

“I was going to say genius, but that works, too.”

“You’d be surprised how much men let slip during pillow talk.” She eyed her son carefully for a moment. “Or perhaps you wouldn’t be.”

“Mother!”

“Draco!” And then he heard a sound he hadn’t heard in a long time—Narcissa’s laugh.

 

* * *

 

Hermione tossed and turned, unable to sleep. She hadn’t realized it before now, but she had gotten used to Draco staying over. His presence was comforting, and she missed his heavy breathing when he’d lay on his side. She had changed the sheets since the last time he stayed over, his scent having long faded from her linens. She missed that, too. 

At least on the weekends, she knew Rose was just across the apartment in her own room, snoring softly. During the week, it was just Hermione. Alone with her thoughts. The loneliness was starting to get old. Seeing the first few rays of sunlight peek through her curtains, she decided to get up and make some coffee. It was going to be a long day. 

Looking at her former lover across the desk was almost worse than trying to sleep without him. He looked so unaffected by all of this, and she started to wonder if she was the only one who had developed deeper feelings. Though the mask of cool indifference was one she saw Draco utilize a lot over the years—it usually meant he was concealing something more underneath. 

She sometimes forgot he was a skilled Occlumens. 

His silver eyes flickered with something she couldn’t quite parse. “These documents from the DRCMC just need your signature.”

Hermione accepted the scroll from him, their hands accidentally brushing. Even that little bit of contact was enough to send a thrill through her. Her cheeks went pink for a moment. “Thank you.” She scribbled her name hastily and looked up at him. He had been watching her but quickly looked down. “How have you been?” she asked.

“Fine,” he lied. “I think it best if we don’t talk about personal matters, Minister.”

She nodded, trying to hold back the tears that were suddenly threatening to well up. 

He started to rise. “If that will be all—”

“Yes, thank you.”

He left without another word. 

If only Hermione could have seen the way he pressed himself into the first available alcove, hands braced against the wall until he felt the pain subside. Then she would know she wasn’t the only one hurting. 

 

* * *

 

Another week passed by in much the same fashion: Draco adopting a cool demeanor to deal with his hurt, Hermione throwing herself back into work to keep her mind occupied and therefore off the pain of their separation. Their meetings were brief and professional. Draco could see that Hermione was losing weight, though. He wondered if she noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

Harry would give him a knowing look anytime he passed by in the hall. They had resumed weekly lunches, and had a good deal to talk about now that it was the peak of summer and Scorpius was spending so much time with Albus. He’d never admit it aloud to Potter, but he was happy that their sons were friends—it made him feel less terrible about being a complete arse in school to know he raised someone like that.

Today they had gone to a nearby Muggle pub for lunch. Harry had suggested it so that no one would ask about Draco’s “extreme broodiness.” “I’m not broody, Potter.”

“You absolutely are and it’s downright sickening. Maybe you’ll feel better after a pint or two.”

He didn’t normally make a habit of drinking at lunch, but the former Golden Boy had made a good point. Draco was halfway into his fish and chips and nearly two pints of Guinness down. “Perhaps you were right.”

Harry smirked. “I’m sorry, what was that, Malfoy? Could you repeat it?”

“Don’t push your bloody luck,” Draco deadpanned. He found himself grinning despite trying to scowl and an irritating thought occurred. _Merlin, Harry Potter is kind of my friend_. 

He found himself in a better mood when he walked back to his office, but it quickly dissipated when he realized who was waiting inside. “Zabini.”

“Drake.”

He stepped inside and closed the door. “To what do I owe this _pleasure_?” He made sure to emphasize the last word so Blaise would know it was anything but.

“I know you technically don’t have a vote in Wizengamot sessions, but it would help if you could be a character witness for my new nominee—or at least vouch for her to Minister Granger when she makes the final approval.” 

“Who is it?” Draco sat down and reclined a little, like this was all boring to him by now.

“Millie Bulstrode.”

Draco’s jaw dropped. “You want me to recommend _Millicent Bulstrode_ for the Wizengamot?!” It was true that their former classmate had hardly been a Death Eater, but she had gotten roped up in some shady reselling of Dark artifacts after Hogwarts, and she had always been cruel to Hermione.

“She’s a good egg now, Drake. Her husband runs a custom broom shop, but after trying and failing for years to have children, she’s bored. She needs a hobby.”

“So you think legislation is the way to go.” He shook his head. “Tell her to take up knitting.”

“I think you fail to appreciate the gravity of your situation. A flick of my wand and those pictures go straight to the _Daily Prophet_.”

Draco scowled. “Fine. I will make sure she has my approval when the docket lands on the Minister’s desk.”

Blaise smiled and got up from his chair. “Excellent. See you around, Drake.”

Draco watched him leave, hiding his disdain for his former friend. He was the picture of compliance now, but all he needed was one juicy tidbit from Tilly and he’d be like a thestral with a bone. He could hardly wait.

As good as he was at concealing his true feelings, Draco didn’t feel the need to keep up the facade at home. Scorpius had stopped asking if he was okay after about the fiftieth time and instead tried to distract him with his own stories. Narcissa insisted on tea more often than usual. When he stepped over the threshold, he flung his outer robes somewhere in the vicinity of the front closet. He didn’t even bother to look and see if a house elf scooped it up. 

He made his way deeper into the house and was surprised to see his mother waiting for him at the foot of the grand staircase. “Chin up, Draco. We’re having dinner as a family tonight.”

He really did love the fact that Narcissa was back to her old self again. She bustled about the whole Manor now, instead of just her wing. She was even doing some renovations and making plans to host a charity event or two. 

Draco checked on Scorpius, who was already washing up for dinner, then decided to freshen up himself. He did a double take when he saw himself in the mirror. Lately, he’d barely registered his appearance before leaving for the day. Now that he’d called it quits with Granger, there didn’t seem to be much of a point. He looked even paler than usual, with dark circles under his eyes, his features appearing even sharper than before. He had lost a little weight as well, his tailored robes a bit loose. Most noticeable was his stubble—he’d taken to shaving once every few days instead of every day, and the darker blonde shadow on his chin was evidence of that.

Shaking it off, he splashed some water on his face. He didn’t have time to pull out all the stops just for dinner.

They were deep into their third course when Tilly appeared with a _pop_ , a wide smile on her small face, her overlarge ears trembling with excitement. “Masters, Mistress, Tilly is reporting that she has news of Mr. Zabini!”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up on the home stretch here... thanks as always to raven_maiden!

Draco stared at the house elf for several moments. “Scorpius, could you go to your room to finish dinner? Or anywhere else, for that matter?”

His son scowled. “But why?”

“Because Tilly has sensitive information that is for myself and your grandmother only.” He made sure to give his sternest look—one he didn’t often need with a child as well-behaved as Scorpius—just to drive his point home.

He huffed. “ _ Fine _ . Why is it you’re always getting rid of me right when things are getting interesting?” Scorpius rose from his seat and handed his half empty plate to Mimsy, who was suddenly at his side. She’d magic the plate to wherever he ended up so he could finish his dinner.

“One day you’ll be old enough to not  _ want  _ to be a part of these conversations,” Draco drawled.

Once he had left, Narcissa turned to the little house elf, who was still hopping around with excitement. “What did you find, Tilly?”

“Mistress told Tilly to follow the ladies who leave Mr. Zabini’s bedroom. Most of the ladies are very boring. But Mr. Zabini has been having a new lady over recently.”

Draco looked at his mother who cocked her eyebrow. He had to admit, it had been an genius idea. “Who?” he asked.

“Miss Daphne Greengrass.”

Draco was floored. He hadn’t seen Daphne since Astoria’s death, and even then just barely. She was late to the funeral and ducked out without saying anything to anyone. The older Greengrass sister had been a bit of a mystery after the war. Supposedly she had courted wizards all across Europe, but never settled down with one. So it was curious that she’d be occupying Blaise Zabini’s bed now.

He listened as Tilly continued sharing her detective work. Apparently Daphne hosted weekly luncheons for a few of her closest friends and had mentioned in passing that she was hoping to be the wife of someone very important in the Ministry someday soon—and that he would be Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot eventually.

“Fascinating,” Narcissa mused, leaning back in her chair.

“So you think there’s some kind of scheme afoot to overthrow Percy Weasley?” Draco asked.

“It would make sense, wouldn’t it? Now you just need to do some research of your own, Draco. Look through the records and find out exactly how many people Blaise has nominated since he took his chair.”

"Brilliant." He paused for a moment, lost in thought. “You know, he’s the one who got me my position as well.”

“Yes, but for his own purposes. He should have known better than to go after a Malfoy.”

“Indeed,” Draco said, a bit of a smirk on his lips.

 

* * *

 

The breakthrough with Tilly had Draco feeling better than he’d felt in weeks—until he saw Hermione again, that is. She had moved on from her drab robe mourning period, or whatever it was, and was back in normal clothes. Today she was wearing a black and white polka dot top with a salmon colored pencil skirt. Though he noticed she was a bit thinner, she still looked ravishing and his mouth went dry at the sight of her.  _ Merlin, give me strength _ .

Hermione looked up as she walked through the Atrium. Of course she and Draco would arrive at the same time today. He looked as handsome as ever in dark navy robes with lime green pocket square for just a pop of color—and a touch of Slytherin. It made her chest tighten to see him looking so good and not being able to do a thing about it. She wanted to pull him into an alcove and snog him silly, to apologize for getting scared, to pick up where they had left off. Then again, she wasn’t sure if he would still want that. The decision to split up had been mutual, but  _ he _ was the one who took the initial plunge— _ he _ was the one who acted like it didn’t bother him a bit. She sighed. It was all so complicated, wasn’t it?

Damn her and her ambitions. She loved being Minister; it was the best way to help the wizarding world and do the most good. But what good was helping everyone else when she herself was miserable? 

“Good Morning, Minister.” His voice sounded even huskier than usual this morning and Hermione had to actively fight the heat flooding through her body.

“Good Morning, Advisor. Will you be picking up tea before our morning meeting?” She was calm, cool, and collected. Draco wanted to drag her into the lavatory and shag her brains out till she forgot all about why they had called it quits.

“Yes, would you like me to bring you one?” He quirked an eyebrow—were they there yet? He was hoping that if his plans regarding Blaise were successful, he could crawl back to her and she’d take pity on him—or something much more dignified and befitting of a Malfoy.

“Please. That would be lovely.” Hermione smiled and it felt a little more like old times, before they had started fucking like puffskeins over every surface in her office… and flat. At least he was still in her life—that was the important part.

When Hermione got home that Friday evening, Rose was waiting for her in the kitchen. “Dad had dinner plans, so he let me Floo over early.”

“Well, it’s a lovely surprise.”

“You look a little better today, Mum.” Rose gave her a hug in greeting.

“What do you mean, ‘better?’” Hermione moved a hand to her hip, trying her best to sound nonchalant. She’d tried her best to be subtle in her grief—but then again, her daughter was quite perceptive.

Rose shrugged. “You’ve just been a little down lately. I assumed you broke up with your secret boyfriend.”

Hermione fought the heat rising to her cheeks and considered her daughter. “Well, it’s complicated… but you’re not far off the mark.” She cleared her throat and bustled about the kitchen, making it clear the topic was no longer open for discussion. Now why don’t we go and get some takeaway, your choice?”

Rose perked up at that. “Sounds great. How about Chinese?”

 

* * *

 

It had taken some sweet talking, but Draco finally got the grumpy elderly witch named Edna to let him into the records room. Several years back, the Ministry had implemented Self Writing Quills en masse to record basically everything that took place within its halls. Hirings, firings, Wizengamot court proceedings—if it happened in the Ministry, it was recorded and filed away in the records room.

The search function was quite tedious, though. One had to cast a spell and utter keywords, which would then return all scrolls with that word. It was taking him forever. Finally, he came across what he’d been looking for: records of current Wizengamot members. A sly grin broke out on Draco’s lips as he recognized several names. 

He was that much closer to burying Blaise and being free.

 

* * *

 

Hermione was working late again. Now it wasn’t so much that she needed to, but rather that she wasn’t ready to go home to her empty flat. She had already alphabetized all the books in her office, after a hairbrained scheme several months ago where she had organized them by subject. She was currently drafting a request for a new office chair when she felt a presence in her doorway. Her heart rate quickened, but when she looked up, she felt ashamed for being slightly disappointed. “Oh, it’s you.”

Harry looked nonplussed by her less than warm welcome. “Good to see you, too, Hermione.”

“Sorry, Harry. I thought you were someone else.” Or at least she had hoped it would be. Her cheeks flushed as she shuffled some papers around her desk. 

It had been several weeks now since she and Draco called it off. They had regained somewhat of a professional working relationship—and he was still an excellent advisor—but she missed him. 

He quirked a brow. “You’ve been working yourself to death again the past couple weeks. I know your workload isn’t as big as it used to be…” he trailed off, pink suffusing his cheeks. She knew he had been about to bring up Draco.

Hermione gave him her best  _ please don’t ask _ look.

“Look, Ginny took the kids to the Burrow for dinner tonight. Why don’t you and I go out? It’s been awhile, yeah?”

Dinner with Harry sounded great. It would delay going home to her lonely flat for a few more hours, and they could catch up on things. “That sounds wonderful.”

They found themselves at a Muggle Indian restaurant they had only been to once before, on a rather awkward double date with Ginny and Ron. The ambience was lovely, the smells mouthwatering and before long, Hermione was dunking her second piece of naan into the chicken tikka masala. 

“Glad to see your appetite is back.” Harry watched as she shoveled a bite into her mouth. 

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “You’ve lost weight, Hermione. I’ve been worried about you. Working long hours again, barely talking to anyone…”

“Well, I’ve been busy.” She stopped to take a sip of ale. 

“Has Malfoy not been doing his share?” Hermione winced when he said the name and understanding bloomed on Harry’s face. “Oh bollocks. I’m sorry, Hermione. This is my fault, I’m afraid.”

Her eyes widened. “Harry, what—”

“I didn’t realize you were in love with him, too.”

Hermione gasped. “What are you—I don’t even—”

“I know you and Malfoy were sleeping together.” 

She felt her face heat up and looked around to make sure there was no one watching them, even though it was highly unlikely in the Muggle establishment. “Even if that were true, how do you know… the other  _ thing _ you said?”

“I’m the one who convinced him to break it off. I thought you were risking your job for a rebound.” Hermione gaped at him. He looked serious, and her chest started to ache. 

“He wasn’t—it was so much  _ more _ than that.” She started to sniff as tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. 

Harry considered this for a moment, his fingers scratching his chin. “Well, have you told him that?”

“We had an arrangement. It was supposed to be just physical—my idea. Then I had to cock it up and catch feelings.”

“Hermione, are you  _ blind _ ? That pointy-faced ponce is crazy about you. He’s walking around looking like an Inferius lately. I know he’s just as miserable as you.”

She shook her head, brushing away a tear that had escaped. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. Like you said, it was dumb to risk my job for a good shag.”

Harry reached across the table to hold her hand. “I don’t think that’s all it was and neither do you. I just want you to be happy. And for awhile this year, you were the happiest I’d seen you in a very long time. As much as it pains me to say it, I think you and Malfoy might be good for each other.”

She smiled at her best friend’s admission—basically his seal of approval. She swallowed. “But the law—”

“Was made for loopholes. Who do you think you’re talking to?” Harry smirked.

Hermione laughed and returned to her food. It wasn’t until much later that she realized Harry had said, “you’re in love with him,  _ too _ .” She had to give the perceptive Golden Boy credit: she absolutely was in love with Draco. There was no point in denying it anymore. But did he feel the same? Did Harry have information she wasn’t privy to? Could Draco possibly have confided in him?

These questions kept her awake for a long time before sleep finally claimed her.

 

* * *

 

“I must commend you on a job well done, Drake. Millie’s Wizengamot induction is scheduled for next Tuesday and she is delighted to be of service to her fellow witches and wizards.”

He felt bile rise in his throat. “Spare me, Blaise.” 

They were back in the same bar, drinking and laughing as if it were old times in the Slytherin common room. Zabini seemed rather smug, but Draco let him peacock all he wanted. Soon enough, he’d bring the hammer down and the other man wouldn’t see it coming. 

“Oh, come on. You know, you used to be such fun!” Blaise scoffed and took another swig of his drink. He was well into his glass of firewhisky—definitely not his first.

“I happen to be a lot of fun still. When my livelihood isn’t being threatened.”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Please. It’s not like you  _ need _ the job. You have enough money.”

“No, but I enjoy it. Believe it or not, I actually like politics and figuring out the best way to get things done. Besides, Granger would lose her head without me.” The thought of her instantly set him on edge. Draco ran a hand through his hair, utterly messing it up.

Blaise softened for a second as he studied him. “You really love her, don’t you?”

Draco’s mouth hardened into a line. He didn’t want an ounce of sympathy from Zabini. “So what if I do?” 

“Oh man. Weasley’s going to  _ kill _ you.”

Draco huffed. “They’re divorced. Besides, I’d like to see him try.”

That garnered another chuckle from Blaise. “Me too, mate. Me too.”

 

* * *

 

“So it’s true, then? You’ve been shagging  _ Draco Malfoy _ this whole time?” Ginny’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.

Hermione had invited her over for dinner and drinks, since Harry had to work late that evening. Ron was currently watching all the kids. She sighed. “Looks like Harry still can’t keep secrets from you.”

“I offer him a blowjob and he’ll tell me anything. Let’s hope he never gets interrogated by a Veela.” Ginny laughed at herself. “But let’s get back to the matter at hand—Malfoy? I mean, I knew he was your advisor, but…” Her eyes widened as comprehension dawned on her face. “ _ Merlin’s saggy left nut _ , is  _ he _ the sex god you described to me a few months ago?”

Hermione flushed and took a sip of her wine as Ginny grinned at her. “Yes, um—he was. But Harry must’ve told you we broke it off.”

Her face darkened. “Yeah, and don’t think I’ve forgiven him so quickly. You were looking healthy and happy and thoroughly fucked. Now you’re all skinny and sad again and I can’t stand it.” Ginny quickly caught her in a fierce, breath-squashing hug, and Hermione sputtered around a mouthful of red hair.

One she managed to untangle herself, Hermione offered her a weak smile. “I do miss him, but is it worth risking my job?”

“The real question is, do you love him?”

Tears filled Hermione’s eyes. “I think I do.”

“Then it’s worth anything.” Ginny poured herself another glass of wine, seemingly deciding a subject change was for the best. “Are you ready for Rose to go back to Hogwarts?”

“ _ She’s _ certainly ready. Already has her trunk packed. I’m excited for her last weekend here, though.”

“That’s good. I bet she likes your flat.”

“She does. She also appreciates the extra closet space. That girl is turning into a regular clothes horse.”

Ginny tipped the bottle into Hermione’s glass. “Let’s finish this up.” A cheeky grin appeared on her lips. “So what kind of equipment is Malfoy working with?”

“Ginny!” Hermione feigned outrage but then collapsed into a fit of giggles with her friend.

 

* * *

 

When he got home from the pub, Draco found his mother in her rarely-used office, penning a letter. “Who are you preparing to owl?”

“That’s none of your concern, dear. Have you been gathering more info about Blaise Zabini?”

Draco suspected that whatever she was doing was very much his concern, but decided it was best to leave her to it. “Yes, I think I have everything I need.” The file was safely tucked away inside his own study, in a device that needed Malfoy blood to be opened.

“Excellent. And you have a plan for your reveal?”

“I do.”

Narcissa smirked and drank from the crystal goblet of water on her desk. “Once you have that all settled, you can apologize to the Minister and make a proper go of your relationship. I think I still have your grandmother’s ring—”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Mother. I haven’t groveled and expressed my love to her yet.”

“Well snap to it then! I’m not going to be around forever, Draco. I’d love to see you happy and settled again before I die.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He left his mother to her correspondence and went to check on Scorpius. Tomorrow the Hogwarts Express would take him back to school. It had been nice having him home, but he was happy for his son to get back into his routine. Merlin knew he hadn’t been good company lately.  _ Hopefully that will all change soon _ .

 

* * *

 

Hermione and Rose had a fun last night together in London. They had gone out for pizza, seen a movie, and did a little last minute shopping, as Rose wanted a few new things to wear for Hogsmeade weekends.

All too soon, Hermione was waking up to the unforgiving sunlight creeping through her drapes, and realizing that a trip to Platform 9 ¾ meant seeing Draco. She—couldn’t do it. It was hard enough seeing him at work, where they had business to discuss. The thought of having to make small talk with him in front of so many former classmates who were all sending their children back to school made her stomach turn. She had just realized she loved him; it was too soon for such a confrontation. 

She headed to the kitchen to make herself some tea, first  penning a quick note to Ron to change their meeting place. They had all planned on going to King’s Cross together, but she just couldn’t do that now. Hopefully Rose would understand.

Ron agreed, but when she met up with him to pass Rose off, he stared at her with a strange look on his face. It was as if he were seeing her for the first time in years. “You don’t look so great, ‘Mione.”

Hermione pressed her lips in a thin line. “Gee, thanks, Ronald.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just a little under the weather. I’m going to wander around the British Library for a bit. You know being around books always helps.”

Ron shrugged. “Never did understand that, actually, but whatever helps.”

“Bye, Mum.” Rose hugged her tightly.

“Goodbye, Rosie,” Hermione whispered back. Her little girl was growing up so fast.

 

* * *

 

After what seemed like an endless summer, it was finally time for the kids to return to Hogwarts. Draco could see the steam rising off the locomotive in the distance, nostalgia creeping into his veins. Scorpius always insisted on getting to the platform early because he liked to watch the train roll in. 

As he had taken to doing in recent years, Draco stood near the back, casually leaning on the wall and watching as Scorpius and Albus chatted. Ginny was the only adult Potter in attendance as Harry had urgent business at the Ministry to attend to. He watched for signs of the other Weasley, rather hoping to see Granger instead. 

It had been two months since they’d called it off—since he’d been a coward and acquiesced to Blaise’s demands with hardly any fight. He was downright miserable without her. As much as it pained him to admit it, Harry had been right—he was desperately in love with her. Had been ever since the first time they shagged. Maybe even before that.

“Oi, Malfoy!” he heard a grating voice yell. “You fucking my wife?”

Draco turned just in time to see Ron Weasley barreling towards him, face nearly as red as his hair. He barely had time to process the man’s words before his fist connected with Draco’s face. It was a sharp sucker-punch, but not altogether as bad as it could’ve been.  _ How the hell had he found out? _ He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and smirked, adrenaline pumping through his veins. “Don’t you mean  _ ex-wife _ , Weasley?”

Ron’s face was now nearly purple with rage. “You fucking tosser—I’ll kill you!” He came at him again.

Draco was ready this time and blocked his punch, swerving to the side before landing one of his own to the Weasel’s nose. The resounding crunch was terribly satisfying and only made him feel slightly guilty as onlookers gasped and shielded their children. 

Ron clutched his nose and looked up, incredulous that Draco Malfoy had made him bleed. Before he could go back in for more, though, a voice cried out, “Dad!”

Rose Granger-Weasley rushed over, pushing both hands into her father’s chest to keep him from charging the older Malfoy. Scorpius was right on her tail, sprinting over to check on Draco. 

“Stop this right  _ now _ !” she ordered, sounding so much like her mother. 

Ron’s eyes never left Draco as he tried to escape his daughter’s grip. “Rose, I appreciate the concern, but this is between me and Malfoy.”

“No, Dad. It concerns me, too, because Mum’s in love with him!” Ron froze and looked down at his daughter, her eyes wide and pleading. 

Draco was dumbstruck. He looked to Scorpius, nearly at his eye level now. His son shrugged and said, “What, you think we don’t talk about you?”

“She can’t—that’s not—” Ron continued to mutter nonsense as his daughter cast a quick  _ Episkey _ and handed him a handkerchief to mop up the blood. 

“Mum was utterly happy for about the first week or so I was home from school. I was  _ so _ excited for the summer. Then  _ something _ happened and she’s been miserable ever since. Scorpius and I figured it out after he saw them kissing.”

Draco opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. 

“It’s true, Mr. Weasley,” said Scorpius, stepping in front of his mute father. “Whatever you might think of my dad, he’s different now. And I can tell he loves the Minister very much. He’s been despondent since they broke up.” 

He stood just a little taller as he said this, and Draco’s heart swelled with pride. 

“You two had better get on the train now,” a gentle voice interjected. It was Ginny, having come over sometime during the commotion. Albus was hanging off the train wildly waving Scorpius over. 

“C’mon, Scorp.” Rose grabbed his arm and rushed them onto the train. 

Draco watched them go, thinking about how nice it was to see them getting along, when his son turned back and winked over his shoulder. Draco gave a little huff of laughter and nodded back. 

“Are we all done here?” said Ginny in her sternest motherly voice. 

“I am if he is.” Draco didn’t care if he was being petulant. He didn’t trust Weasley as far as he could throw him—which, judging from his beer belly, wouldn’t be very far. 

“Yeah, Gin. I’m sorry. I just haven’t had enough time to process this yet.”

She fixed her brother with a withering stare. “So you thought it would be okay to pick a fight with Draco on the platform in front of all the children?” 

He at least had the decency to look ashamed. “Well, when you say it like that, it does sound rather bad.”

“Ron, you’re my brother and I love you—but you can be a right git sometimes.” Ginny put her hands on her hips. “Now get the hell out of here. I need to have a chat with Draco.”

Once Ron was out of earshot, Draco tried to grin at her, but ended up wincing at the pain. “You wanted to speak with me, Mrs. Potter?”

“Look, I don’t know exactly what my husband said to you, but he can be overprotective of Hermione. She’s like the sister he never had. But you and Hermione  _ clearly _ share something special. She’s been a wreck ever since the split. I’m assuming she didn’t want to see you today, which is why she’s at the British Library.”

Draco lit up, the possibility of working things out with Granger springing up like a weed through a crack in the cement. Then he remembered that he still hadn’t fixed the situation with Blaise. Or their jobs. He swallowed. “Why are you telling me?”

“So you can go let her know how you feel, obviously. Honestly, Malfoy. Are all men this dumb?” She smiled at him, her eyes wandering down his body and winking before walking back through to the Muggle side of King’s Cross. 

Draco stared into the distance, watching the train getting smaller and smaller before he decided. He had been to the British Library once before with Scorpius. He turned and disapparated. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, friends! This is last "official" chapter; 15 will be an epilogue. Thanks as always to raven_maiden. 
> 
> I do hope you like it!

Hermione breathed in deeply, letting the scent of old books and industrial carpet fill her lungs. Safe inside the dimly lit Sir John Ritblat Treasures Gallery room, she comforted herself by looking at an excerpt from the  _ Magna Carta _ before gazing at some early Shakespearian manuscripts. It was temperature controlled inside to protect the ancient tomes, but she cast a warming charm around her shoulders so she could linger as long as she wanted.

The first time her parents had taken her to the British Library, Hermione had been gobsmacked. She had never seen so many books together in one place. She instantly fell in love and came back frequently—that is, until the Hogwarts library started satisfying her needs. In fact, it had been far too long since she’d been back. She hugged herself as she thought about her parents. She could really use her mother’s sage advice right about now. 

Hermione was used to solving problems. To finding the answer to even the most complex question. Learning and knowledge were her strong points. But matters of the heart? It was another thing entirely—a mystery she’d never really been able to figure out. She had treated her relationship with Ron a lot like all her other studies: it made sense on paper, so if she followed through she should have gotten her happy ending. A plus B equals C, right? But it hadn’t worked out that way. And then there was Draco. He was a variable she couldn’t have foreseen. He had swept her off her feet in more ways than one. Before she even knew what was happening, her heart had been his.

If only she had realized it sooner and had the courage to tell him. 

She sighed, looking over a notebook of Jane Austen’s. The history contained in this room never ceased to amaze her. A couple other Muggles had milled about as she first came in, but now she found the room oddly quiet. Almost as if someone had cast a  _ Muffliato _ . She turned around to see only one other occupant—a man in a black jumper and jeans with platinum hair that seemed to glow in the low light of the room. She gasped. “Draco. What are you doing here?”

“Ginny told me this is where you’d be.”

“Why would she do that?” Her heart was beating so rapidly she thought he might hear.

“Granger—” he moved closer into a shaft of the overhead light and she could see his split lip “—I need to tell you something.”

“Oh my god, Draco! You’re bleeding.” She rushed to him and gently took his face in her hands. “What happened?” She cast a few wandless, nonverbal spells, removing the blood from his lip and chin, and then sealing up the cut on his lip. 

He shuddered at her touch, closing his eyes as she worked. “Your ex-husband.”

Hermione groaned. If Draco looked like this, she wondered what Ron looked like. “And how badly off did you leave him?”

“Is this confidence in my abilities I hear?” He smirked.

“Maybe.” She was still touching his face, running her thumb over his freshly healed lip.

“I broke his nose, but your talented daughter fixed him up.” He brought his face closer to hers. “Everyone knows about us now, I’m afraid. Well, everyone who was within hearing distance on the platform.”

She moved even closer into him, their bodies pressed against each other. “I don’t think I care anymore. I’ve missed you so much.”

Draco couldn’t take it anymore. He leaned in and kissed her, his arms immediately wrapping around her and drawing her as tightly to himself as he could. She opened to him right away, her tongue darting out to meet his. He gasped, pulling back slightly before letting his hand drift across her chest and up her throat, kissing her more deeply still. Merlin, he had missed this. “Hermione,” he breathed. “I wanted to tell you…”

“Tell me, Draco. Tell me everything.” She nipped at his jaw and close to his ear. It was hard to concentrate on what he wanted to say when she was driving him crazy.

He pushed her back and ran his hands down her shoulders so he could concentrate. His silver eyes glinted in the low light, boring into her brown ones, and he took a deep breath. “I’m hopelessly in love with you, Hermione Granger. I have been for a long time, and I only wanted to break things off for reasons I fear you might hate me for.”

Hermione softly gasped, a tear escaping unbidden. Her heart swelled as she reached up to touch his face. “How could I ever hate you, when I love you so much?” She kissed him again, taking her time, letting the taste and smell of him invade her senses as he groaned into her mouth and gripped her tightly. This was right—the two of them together. Whatever happened next, she never wanted to be apart from him again. 

“You may just yet.” He took her hands and brought them to his lips, kissing her knuckles. He let out a sharp intake of air, leveling her with an intent gaze. “Blaise has been blackmailing me. He had us tailed and took pictures of us kissing outside that inn. He threatened to release them to the press unless I started doing favors for him.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide. The anger flooded her veins, icy cold. She seethed as she searched for the words to say, increasing Draco’s anxiety with each passing moment. “I  _ knew _ that slimy bastard was up to something. What did he ask you to do? How long has this been going on?”

He listed his sins, enumerating all the ways he’d caved to Blaise’s demands, fearing she’d slip out of his grasp with each one. “It was only just before we broke it off. I thought it would be safer if I didn’t give him a reason to have any more leverage over me.”

She nodded, still processing. Nothing that had been passed was that detrimental. It just seemed like Zabini was setting up pins to knock down later—he wanted to make a power grab at some point, she was sure of it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to be implicated in case anything major went down.” He hung his head, looking down at their still entwined hands. “I’m so sorry. I was ashamed. I didn’t know what to do—how to fight for you… but if you’re willing to give me a chance, I have a plan.”

Surprisingly the anger flared only for a minute. As it dissipated she was overwhelmed by how unlike her it seemed. Of course she was furious at Blaze, but she had a range of completely different emotions for Draco. She understood his reasons, and she couldn’t really blame him for not being forthcoming. It went against his natural instincts. They’d have to work on that, but for now, she was filled with relief at being able to hold him again. He loved her, and that was what mattered. “I can’t wait to hear it,” she said, sliding her arms around him again. “Kiss now, subterfuge later.”

“You’re not mad?” His eyebrow went up.

“A little, but we can talk about it later. I’ve missed you too much to worry about it right now.” She looked around, taking note of how empty it still was inside the room.

Draco grinned. “I cast  _ Repello Muggletum _ before coming in.”

A positively wicked grin spread across her face. “You know, library sex has always been a fantasy of mine…”

“Has it now?” He chuckled, but Hermione was already unbuckling his belt, sliding the zipper down on his jeans. He was hard already and she had him out of his denims quickly as she knelt before him. “What are you—”

He was silenced by the first swipe of her tongue over his shaft. It was something they hadn’t done previously—not because he didn’t enjoy it, but because he had a feeling Hermione had been the giver in her previous experiences and he always wanted to make sure she came first. And often more than once. Draco groaned as she kissed the tip and then took him inside her hot, wet mouth. “ _ Fuck _ . Granger, you don’t have to—”

She released him with a  _ pop _ , looking up at him with lust-blown eyes. “I know, but I  _ want _ to.”

He was helpless against her as she pulled him inside her mouth again, using the spit running over to work the length that wouldn’t fit with her hand. He groaned as she hollowed out her cheeks to take him more deeply and combed his fingers through her hair. He loved her wild curls and the way her head was bobbing up and down before him now was utterly sinful. He stared down at her, hardly daring to blink, willing himself to remember this moment forever.

Hermione moaned around him and the vibrations were nearly too much. “Okay, Hermione. Love, you have to stop.”

She released him and wiped her mouth. “Why?”

“Because I want to come inside you.” He pulled her to standing and backed her up to the nearest wall—between two exhibits—hoisting her up as she wrapped her legs around him.

Their mouths met in an aggressive kiss, hot and desperate for each other. Hermione was dressed casually and for the slight chill in the air—jeans, jumper, scarf. Draco was impatient and summoned his wand to vanish all of her clothing in one smooth stroke. Her eyes widened as she let out a short huff. “Much better,” she murmured before sucking on his jaw again.

“I’ve been dreaming about your perfect cunt,” he whispered against her ear, his hot breath arousing her even further.

“Fuck me, Draco.” Her fingers dug into his back, emphasizing her need for him.

He lined himself up with her entrance and pushed inside. They both sighed as he filled her up, sharing the relief of coming together again after such a long separation. Never again. 

“You’re so wet,” he murmured against her neck.

“Only for you,” she breathed.

He rocked slowly into her, her back pressed against the wall, their eyes on each other. Draco let his one hand roam her body as the other helped support her weight. His fingers wandered over her collarbone, letting his thumb rest in the juncture of her neck and shoulder. “You’re mine, Hermione. I never want to lose you again.”

“Never,” she panted as the pace of his thrusts increased. “I’m yours. I love you, Draco.”

“I love you, too.” He was close, but it was becoming difficult to keep up a steady rhythm. He paused, picking her up and whispering a cushioning charm before laying her on the floor.  _ Much better _ . She looked so beautiful spread out before him.

“Fuck.” Hermione would never get tired of the beautiful friction, the way he filled her so completely. It was sheer bliss to feel the push and pull as her muscles clung to him on every egress. Then he moved his fingers to her clit, and she dragged her nails down his back gasping as she came harder than she ever had in her life. 

Her walls were spasming around him and Draco couldn’t hold on much longer. He gave a few final thrusts before coming with a groan and spilling deep inside of her. He had missed this so much. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he chanted as he collapsed on top of her in a sweaty heap. He felt her fingers carding through his hair as she kissed his temple and whispered the words back to him.

When they had both recovered enough, Draco conjured her clothes back and handed them to her. “So, any plans for the rest of the day?”

She smiled. “Turns out I’m completely free.”

 

* * *

 

Once they returned to the Manor, Draco explained what he’d been up to with Tilly and his mother. There was a ceremony planned for Tuesday to induct Millicent Bulstrode as the newest Wizengamot member, and he thought that would be the best time to reveal the information he’d found out about Blaise. 

They were having tea in the garden, Hermione looking through the file he’d given her, when Narcissa appeared. Her eyes sparkled as she looked between the two of them. “Minister, how lovely to see you visiting again.”

“Please, Narcissa. Call me Hermione.” Hermione paused for a moment, biting her lip. Then she reached over and took Draco’s hand in hers.

Narcissa smiled at them. “Of course,  _ Hermione _ . I’m glad to see my son still has some sense in him yet. I’ll leave the both of you to it, then.” She turned and walked through the garden to the rest of the grounds, her elegant midnight colored robes swaying as she moved.

“Does she know?” Hermione asked. Draco glanced down at their entwined hands and then back up again at her, quirking a brow. Her cheeks flushed. “About Blaise.” 

Draco rolled his eyes. “My mother knows  _ everything _ .”

Once they had talked through the logistics of their plan, he took her on a tour through the Manor. Hermione was astounded by the sheer vastness of it. “It’s like the TARDIS,” she mused.

“What?” Draco looked at her quizzically.

“Bigger on the inside. It’s a Muggle television—never mind.” She shook her head and smiled.

“Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet.” Draco looped his arm through hers as they walked through the corridor.

Hermione was surprised when they stopped in front of Astoria’s portrait. She loosened her arm on instinct as she stared up at the young woman. It was clearly a picture of her from early on in the marriage, before she had succumbed to sickness. Her face was bright and youthful, the picture of elegance in her pale blush robes, delicate fingers folded in her lap. “Hello, Draco. And lovely to see you, Hermione.”

She looked happy—much too happy for a memory of a dead woman being introduced to her husband’s new lover. 

“Tori, I know you encouraged me to pursue this relationship. I thought it fitting for you to meet the woman who made me believe I could be happy again.” Draco wrapped his arm around Hermione, as if to let her know it would be fine.

“Nice to meet you, Astoria,” she finally managed. Hermione had never actually met the woman when she was alive. She had seen her once in passing as they sent the kids off to Hogwarts, but that was it. The way she carried herself  was not at all what her younger self would have envisioned for Draco Malfoy’s wife.

Astoria smiled as she looked between them both. “You love him. Good. Take care of him.”

“I will,” she promised quietly.

“Bye, Tori,” Draco said as they turned to leave. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be visiting her much anymore. They walked back downstairs and he turned to Hermione. “I’m sorry if that was awkward, but she really wanted to meet you.”

“No, I’m glad. I know it’s different, and loving me doesn’t mean you loved her any less.”

He smiled and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “When she died, I didn’t think I’d ever love again. But what I feel for you—it’s so different, I can’t even compare. You gave me a reason to live again.” 

Hermione felt her stomach flutter She grabbed him by the lapel of his robe and dragged him to her for a searing kiss. “I was going through the motions before you, Draco. You brought me back to life.”

He tugged her along by the hand. “I have one more thing to show you, since you like libraries so much.”

They stopped in front of two ornately gilded wooden doors with curved handles. “Is this what I think it is?”

“See for yourself.”

She opened the double doors and nearly lost her breath. The Manor library was huge—much larger than she expected it to be. Aisles and aisles of books sat before her, all on impeccably carved wooden shelves. “It’s beautiful.” She turned to see Draco leaning against the doorway, just watching her, his ever present smirk curling the edges of his lips.

“I knew you’d like it. I can’t believe I haven’t shown you before.” He pushed off the door jamb and sauntered over to her, his hands sweeping her hair to one side so he could place a delicate kiss on her neck. “Take a look around, love.”

She swept her hands adoringly over the bindings of the old leather books as she wandered up and down the rows. She almost felt like a kid again. Except young Hermione would never approve of where she was right now. A wicked grin broke out on her face when she thought about how her younger self would react if she knew how very much she enjoyed fucking Draco Malfoy.

Draco took a seat in one of the oversized leather armchairs that sat in front of the fireplace at the front of the library. He figured Hermione would be a while, so he summoned a book for himself and a glass of firewhisky. He amused himself for as long as he could, but after two hours, he got up to go check on her. When he saw where she was—the fifth aisle back, with several books spread out on the floor around her and reading from yet another in her lap—he couldn’t help but laugh. 

Hermione sat on the floor her knees bent beside her. “I got a bit carried away,” she admitted.

“I can see that. It’s been two hours, Granger.”

“Has it really? Oh my…” She started stacking the books and rolled onto her knees to get up. “I’m sorry.”

Draco held out his hand to help her up and yanked her towards himself. “Don’t be—this is one of the many reasons why I love you.”

She smiled into him as their lips met. When they finally broke apart for air, she sighed. “I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.”

He kissed her nose and said, “Stay for dinner… maybe the night.”

She leaned her head on his chest. “Yes to both. Just let me go home to get a change of clothes.”

After she had packed a bag and returned, they joined Narcissa for dinner in the dining room. Hermione had changed into a lovely emerald dress for the occasion, trying obviously to win points with the lady of Malfoy Manor. 

“That’s a beautiful dress, Hermione, but you needn’t have worn green on my account.” She smirked as she took a sip of her wine.

Hermione leaned over and whispered to Draco, “Is she a Legilimens?”

“I still haven’t figured it out, to be honest,” he whispered back.

“Would you two prefer to be alone?” 

He looked sheepish. “No, Mother. I wanted us all to have dinner together. Apologies.”

Narcissa laughed. “You forget that I have a sense of humor, Draco.”

Hermione snickered and tucked into their first course: a brightly colored gazpacho. The rest of dinner was full of lively conversation, lavish food, and smooth wine. After a dessert of poached pears with mascarpone, Narcissa excused herself to her wing. “It’s good to see you at the Manor again, Hermione.”

“Thank you, Narcissa. It’s good to be back.”

She let Draco walk them back to his room, his arm wrapped tightly around her. He lit candles around the room and slowly undressed her. Then he made her come twice with his fingers and tongue before fucking her deep into the mattress, never breaking eye contact.

Hermione’s breath hitched as she writhed beneath the man she loved. She found his hands and interlaced their fingers while he pistoned into her. Her back arched up as he hit her deeply and she kissed him again, dragging his lower lip between her teeth on her way back down.

“Look at me. I want to watch you come,” he said.

Her eyes stayed on his as she fell over the edge, pulling him along with her. After, he gathered her to his chest and tucked her head under his chin. As she fell asleep, Hermione felt complete for the first time in a long time.

 

* * *

 

Tuesday morning came too soon, butterflies wreaking havoc in Hermione’s stomach at the thought of what they were about to do. She could only hope that it would all go to plan, and that the Wizengamot would have mercy on them. She wasn’t worried about Blaise Zabini—she knew Draco had that covered. The only concern she had was whether the members would go for her plan, the one where Draco got to stay at the Ministry.

Draco watched as the members came in, a sea of purple pouring into the chambers. Blaise sauntered in, his Slytherin swagger in peak form. He saw Millicent Bullstrode in the visitor’s box for now, awaiting her induction—which, if they pulled this off, would actually not occur. There was a special seat reserved for the Minister, which he now noticed had another chair beside it, for her advisor. He took his seat next to Hermione and tapped her shoe with his. “It’s going to work. Just breathe.”

She smiled at him. “I know. I just get nervous.”

“Come on, where’s that Gryffindor courage?” His accompanying grin was adorable and she had to remind herself where they were in order to resist the urge to kiss him. 

As everyone quieted down, Percy Weasley cleared his throat. “This session of the Wizengamot has now commenced. First order of business today is to induct our newest member, Millicent Bulstrode.”

“If it pleases the court, I have a statement to make first,” Draco interjected. His skin prickled as the collective eyes of the room fell on him. 

Percy looked skeptical, his brow raising in question. “Uh, the Wizengamot recognizes Draco Malfoy, Advisor to the Minister for Magic.”

“Thank you, Chief Warlock.” Draco stood and straightened his robes. He had the file clutched in one hand as he spoke. “I have a rather lengthy speech to make, but first things first: I am officially resigning my position as Advisor to the Minister for Magic.” Murmurs from the crowd. “You see, I can no longer in good conscience hold the position. It has become a conflict of interest as I have—fallen in love with Hermione Granger.”

There were gasps all around the room, a brief outburst of purple movement as some members moved to cover their mouths with their hands. Blaise was seething where he sat—they had clearly upstaged him. Hermione flushed and looked down, but remained silent. He had refused to let her hear the speech beforehand.

Draco seemed impervious to it all. “Now I know there are rules in place against supervisors dating their subordinates, which is why I must resign. Do you accept this resignation?” 

He looked straight at Hermione, who nodded. “I do.”

“Good. Then onto my next order of business. I have uncovered a plot to overthrow the Chief Warlock and seize the majority vote of the Wizengamot.”

More gasps and commotion. Percy conjured a gavel head on the end of his wand and banged it rather loudly on the podium. “Order!” his modified voice rang out through the chambers, quieting all the other members. “Continue, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Thank you.” Draco proceeded to lay out in excruciating detail how Blaise Zabini had been responsible for no fewer than 10 of the new members being inducted since the start of his term, not including Millicent, who was growing greener in the face with each passing second. He also produced evidence of bribes, extortion, infidelity (by way of a pensieve memory from Daphne Greengrass) and numerous counts of slander against the Chief Warlock himself.

Finished with his long and sordid tale, Draco handed the file over to Percy and found Blaise’s eyes through the crowd. He grinned.  _ How’s that for the upper hand, you slimy bastard? _

Percy skimmed through the documents in Draco’s file. “Well, in light of this new evidence, the induction ceremony will be placed on hold indefinitely while we investigate these claims. In the meantime, Blaise Zabini is barred from attending all Wizengamot sessions.”

Blaise stood up, his mouth twisted in a sneer. “This is ridiculous.” As he marched down the steps from his seat, he locked eyes with Draco. “This isn’t over, Malfoy.”

“Oh, I think it is, Zabini.” He winked at him before Blaise stormed away, fuming. 

Draco was started out of his smug haze by Percy’s gavel banging again. “Order! I would like to remind the members we are still in session. Please ignore Member Zabini’s abrupt exit. Now onto the next order—”

Hermione stood. “Actually, Chief Warlock, if it pleases the Wizengamot, I have a proposal.”

Percy looked slightly frazzled that this session was not going according to plan. Nevertheless, he took a deep breath. “Of course, Minister. Proceed.”

“While I accept Draco Malfoy’s resignation from the position of Advisor, I would like to propose he be reassigned as the head of the Office of Misinformation. Currently the department exists in title only, as there has been relatively little use for it since the Second Wizarding War. However, I’d like to incorporate the Advisor’s current duties as liaison to the Muggle Prime Minister into this position, as well as a few other things which I have detailed here.” 

More buzzing from the crowd. Hermione squared her shoulders, summoning her Gryffindor courage. 

“While I won’t deny my desire to pursue a personal relationship with Mr. Malfoy, I’m convinced he’s the best person for the job. You’ll find extensive data detailing his qualifications and how the proposed restructuring can improve efficiency in the Improper Use of Magic Office and the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, as well as other offices in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.” She handed Percy her own file.

Percy shuffled through it for a moment, mouth slightly open, before looking up at her. “Right. Well, this is very thorough, Minister. We can take a vote on it.”

Draco could only stare at her in amazement as she sat back down. He didn’t even hear the Chief Warlock as he moved onto other business. Hermione smirked at him and whispered, “You’re not the only one with tricks up his sleeve.”

_ Indeed _ , he thought as a shiver ran down his spine. He’d be sure to show her his appreciation later.

The rest of the session went according to normal, Percy holding all voting matters until the end. Draco wore a stunned look as the majority of the members voted in favor of the Minister’s proposal for his transfer. He hadn’t expected to be able to still work at the Ministry. All he’d been hoping to accomplish that day was to save Hermione’s career and free them both from Blaise's chokehold. Yet his talented witch had found a way to keep him there, with her. 

In a turn of events he couldn’t have foreseen, no one said a single thing about the revelation that the Minister and her Advisor were in love. Though he did think he overheard Seamus Finnegan remarking that someone owed him 20 galleons. It seemed Blaise had used their own fear of repercussions against them when in reality, there was little to fear.

“That was—easier than I expected.” Draco raked a hand through his hair. It was nearly time for another trim.

“I may or may not have included several measures in my proposal regarding interoffice dating. One of the only rules I recommended keeping was that no one can date an immediate subordinate, which is fine because you won’t be reporting directly to me anymore.”

Draco frowned. “And just who will I be reporting to?”

Hermione grinned slyly. “It’s funny you should ask, because the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures just got a new head a few weeks ago. Let’s go meet her.”

They took the lift to Level 4. Draco stood as close to Hermione as he could, hooking his pinky finger with hers as the few others in the lift pointedly stared at their shoes. “Is this really necessary?” she whispered, her cheeks pink.

“Now that I can touch you in public, I’m going to abuse the privilege,” he replied with a wink.

When the lift doors opened, Hermione rolled her eyes and pulled Draco along, entwining her fingers fully with his. She rounded a few corners before stopping in front of an office. She let go of Draco’s hand to knock on the door.

“Come in,” a lilting voice replied.

They stepped inside to see the department head furiously searching her office. It was nearly in shambles, bins overturned, books strewn about and furniture moved to the center of the room. Hermione smiled at Draco, who was looking rather aghast. “Draco, you remember Luna Lovegood-Scamander, I believe.”

Luna turned toward them. “Sorry for the mess. My office has an infestation of nargles, but I haven’t been able to find the nest yet.”

“L-luna?” Draco stammered.

“Draco Malfoy, so lovely to see you. Your office will be right across from mine—isn’t that wonderful?” She shuffled closer and took a good, long look at both Hermione and Draco. “Oh wow. Your sexual auras are off the charts! Hermione, you didn’t tell me that it was Draco who was watering your garden.”

Hermione turned bright pink. “I—er, well it was a secret at the time.”

Luna ignored her and started poking Draco’s face. “Fascinating,” she muttered mostly to herself.

“Granger, what is she doing?” He looked concerned but didn’t stop her. She was his new boss, after all.

“You have absolutely no wrackspurts anywhere on your person!” Luna beamed like he should be happy about this.

“Um, okay?”

“Well, I remember you used to have a ton back when we were at Hogwarts. There’s really only one thing that can make them leave completely.”

Hermione finally spoke up, finding herself highly amused. “And what’s that, Luna?”

She threw her long dishwater blonde hair over a shoulder and smiled. “True love.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure about this, Granger?”

“It’s just dinner, Draco. You’re already friends with Harry.” She ran a calming hand over his shoulder.

“It depends on your interpretation of the word frie—ow!” He yelped as she slapped his arm. “Fine, we’re friends, but I don’t think his wife is overly fond of me.”

“It’s a double date, not a trial by combat.”

“Says you.” Draco stopped to point a finger into her chest for emphasis.

She grabbed his finger and kissed him hastily. He quickly forgot his quibbles and wrapped his arms around her, deepening the kiss. 

“Get a room, you two!” called a voice behind them.

Hermione broke the kiss and wriggled out of Draco’s grasp. “Harry,” she said in greeting before hugging her best friend.

“Happy Birthday, Hermione,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m really glad it all worked out.”

“Me too,” she whispered back.

Ginny hugged her as well and then, to everyone’s surprise, also hugged Draco. “You two look really happy.”

Draco managed a grin. “Thank you, Ginny.”

Harry took his wife’s arm and gestured to the restaurant before them. “Shall we?”

Hermione looked up at Draco, still in awe of the love and possession she saw in his eyes. This was only the beginning of their life together—out in the open, for all the world to see. The thought sent a thrill down her spine. Warmth filled her body as she realized she was completely content in this moment. She looped her arm through his. “We shall.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, everyone, we have reached the end! Thank you so much for reading, commenting, kudosing and experiencing this journey with me. This was the first Dramione fic I started planning, and to date, it's my longest completed work on AO3! I feel very grateful that you took time out to read this. Endings are bittersweet, aren't they?
> 
> A very special thanks to my beta, [raven_maiden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_maiden/pseuds/raven_maiden), who helped me with plot and general HP-verse stuff. I feel like this story was more robust because of you! 💜
> 
> Also if you didn't already know, Still Life has a [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3RvNdKqeGjA63aUXlrnwxy?si=xvDE6He3RVSArkVHCqS6wg) that I curated to help with the tone and feel of the fic.

**_Three months later._ **

Narcissa had gone all out for Christmas. The Manor was decked out in lights, wreaths and floating mistletoe. The elves were buzzing around animatedly, dressed in various hues of red and green, silver and gold. Dracoa shook his head as he made his way down to the foyer. He could barely believe his eyes as he took in the sight of his mother—in  _ scarlet _ robes—bustling around and making sure every last string of garland was perfectly in place.

“Are you all set then, Mother? They’ll be here soon.” He was nervous. Hermione was bringing Rose over for Christmas Eve, and they were spending the night. Then they would head to the Burrow for Christmas Day. She had brought Rose over a couple times for dinner or tea, but this was their first overnight stay. 

Eventually he hoped it would be a permanent thing. But for now—this had to go well. He straightened out the lapel on his deep hunter green robes and started to pace. 

Hermione was pacing in her living room as well, waiting for Rose to appear. Just as she was thinking it, she saw a flash of red and green from the corner of her eye. Her daughter had done her red hair in a braid and paired it with a festive green dress. “You ready?” she asked her daughter, holding her arm out for her. 

Rose hurried over, her small bag slung over her shoulder. She had done an extendable charm on it that was exceptionally subtle, making Hermione swell with pride whenever she saw it. “Yup. It’s really not a big deal, Mum. I’ve been there before.”

“I know, but you haven’t spent the night. It’s just a big step.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “I know you and Mr. Malfoy are going to move in together eventually. You can relax.”

Hermione bit her lip, inwardly cursing that her daughter had inherited her keen intelligence and quick wit, and she Apparated them to the front steps of the Manor. They were permitted to Apparate directly on the grounds, since Draco had adjusted his wards to recognize Granger blood. Some of the portraits had put up a fuss, but he threatened to burn them, quickly silencing their qualms. She led the way up the steps and stood with her knuckles ready to rap on the door when Draco swung it open.

“Hermione, Rose. Happy Christmas.” He kissed Hermione on the cheek and gave Rose a quick pat on the shoulder.

Rose brushed past both of them. “You guys are being weird.”

Scorpius took this opportunity to come barreling down the stairs. “I know, right? Dad’s been a mess. You should have seen him pacing.”

Draco shot his son a warning look, but if he noticed, he didn’t show it. 

Rose giggled. “Mum was doing the same thing!”

“Want to see the new comic I’ve been working on?” Scorpius asked her. 

“Sure!” She looked to her mother for approval.

“Go ahead,” Hermione offered.

As Rose made her way over to Scorpius, she missed seeing the floating mistletoe in the air. It wriggled and glowed softly overhead when she stepped beneath it, following her around the room. Rose grimaced, blinking up at it. With magical mistletoe, she was unable to shake it until someone kissed her. Draco watched as his son tentatively went over to her and raised his eyebrows in question.

“Well, it’s not going to go away unless you do,” Rose huffed. She stood there, stock still as Scorpius leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. It was brief and chaste, but Rose’s apprehension seemed to fade in the last couple seconds of the kiss.

The mistletoe floated away and Scorpius smiled at her. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“No. I suppose not.” Rose giggled and took his hand as he led her back up the stairs.

“Leave the door open, you two!” Draco called after them.

Hermione stared at him. “Are they—should we be concerned?”

“A house elf will pop in unannounced the moment anything even remotely improper starts to occur. I set up the charm as soon as he hit puberty. What do you take me for, Granger?”

Hermione laughed. “Right. What was I thinking? Never underestimate a Malfoy.”

“Indeed.” He took her in his arms to give her a proper kiss, letting his hands drift down to cup her bum and touching his tongue against hers ever so briefly before the sound of a throat clearing brought them back to reality.

Narcissa arched one of her perfect blonde brows. “You two are worse than the children.”

Hermione blushed as she started to laugh. Draco pulled her along into the rest of the house.

Sitting down to Christmas Eve dinner with the Malfoys and her daughter, Hermione realized she hadn’t been this happy in a long time. She didn’t own a pensieve, but she thought it might be a good investment so she could preserve memories like this one forever. 

 

* * *

 

**_Two months later._ **

Ron took a long time to come around after the incident on Platform 9 ¾ . It was a pretty big blow to his ego that not only was Draco Malfoy bedding his ex-wife, she was also sickeningly in love with the prat. He grumbled for so long when he found out that Harry and Ginny went on a double date with the couple, that Padma—who he had been intermittently seeing—quickly broke it off.

Hermione learned all this secondhand via an owl from Rose, who bore the brunt of her father’s angry rants. But apparently Padma leaving had been the catalyst for Ron Weasley to realize that some things needed to change. He started working out, sleeping more regularly, and was limiting himself to one beer a day. And today, Hermione and Draco had plans to meet him for dinner in a Muggle restaurant so the men would be forced to behave.

She was a bundle of nerves.

They reached the Apparition point at precisely 7pm, Draco’s arm wrapping tightly around her waist for reassurance. “Relax, Granger. It’s going to be fine.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“Then I’ll punch him again.” He smirked.

“Don’t you dare.”

“I make no promises.”

Hermione finally let out of a soft chuckle and leaned her head on her boyfriend’s shoulder as they walked. “Thank you for coming.”

“Well, he did invite us both.”

“Yes, but I bet he doubted you’d show.”

They entered the pub to see Ron was already waiting for them at a table near the front. He waved awkwardly. Hermione went over and greeted him with a brief hug. “Thanks for seeing me, ‘Mione.”

“Of course. You look well.”

“You too, Malfoy.” Ron dipped his head.

Draco nodded curtly, saying nothing as he sat.

“Right. So you want to order a drink first or should I crack on?”

Hermione sighed, looking over the drink menu. Ron seemed to be a few sips into his pint, so she figured a little liquid courage might do them all some good. She flagged down the waiter. “I’ll have a glass of Chardonnay and he’ll have a whisky, neat.”

“So she’s ordering for you now, eh, mate?” Ron quipped.

“Ronald—” Hermione started to warn him, but he waved her off.

“I’m only kidding. At any rate, I asked you both here so I could apologize. I was a bit of tosser picking that fight with you, Malfoy. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’ll say—” Draco started and broke off, wincing as Hermione kicked him under the table. He cleared his throat. “I appreciate your apology, Weasley.”

Ron gave him a terse nod and stared into his beer for a few moments. “Anyway, Rose speaks very highly of you and your son in her owls. I know she spent some time at the Manor over the holidays, so I’m glad she felt welcome.” Ron shifted and took a swig of his beer.

The waiter appeared before Draco could reply, setting down their drinks. Hermione took a long, grateful sip of her wine. This was going much better than she had anticipated. At least there was no blood... yet.

“Rose is a delightful girl and I’m happy that she and Scorpius have become friends,” said Draco honestly. He suspected they might be on their way to becoming more than that, but that would be a battle he’d face when the time came. 

“Me too, actually. Harry says he and Albus are like two peas in a pod. I’m glad our children could look past the grievances of their parents.” Ron stared past Hermione as he said this, his eyes wistful. She was actually quite proud of him in this moment.

“That’s very magnanimous of you, Ron.” Hermione smiled.

“You and your fancy words. Well, I guess Malfoy enjoys that.” He laughed, and the good-natured retort on the tip of Hermione’s tongue had to wait, as the waiter had returned to take their dinner orders. When he left, Ron turned to Hermione, his expression earnest. “Look, I figure this thing between you two is pretty serious, and I want things to be good between all of us since I expect we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. That’s why I wanted to make it through at least one dinner together.”

“Sounds fair,” Draco agreed.

Much to Hermione’s relief, dinner was mostly pleasant. Draco and Ron stayed on safe topics like the children, Quidditch, and the weather. She added her own opinions where appropriate, but remained silent during the Quidditch talk. 

Ron had nearly finished his shepherd’s pie when he looked up at the sound of Hermione’s laughter, Draco having just made a quip that  sent her into a fit of giggles. She quieted when she saw his features soften, looking just a bit sad. “You seem really happy, ‘Mione.”

She straightened, shocked that he would notice and admit  such a thing aloud. “I am.”

Ron smiled then, looking more like his old self than he had in a long time, and Hermione felt herself relax. “Good. Keep her that way, eh, Malfoy?”

Draco swallowed, considering himself a truly lucky man. “I’ll do my best.”

 

* * *

 

**_One month later._ **

Hermione was surprised when Draco had brought up going to the British Library again, but apparently they were holding a fancy reception for the opening of their new reading room. Fancy receptions were right up his alley, after all. 

She was scrutinizing her appearance in the mirror, the gold and black dress hugging her curves just so. It was also backless, and she wondered if it might be a bit too much. 

Just then Draco came up behind her, placing a hand on her bare lower back. He whispered in her ear, “You look exquisite. I can’t wait to take this off of you later.” 

He kissed her exposed neck, her hair having been swirled into a messy chignon. She moaned. “You keep that up and we might not even make it.”

Draco stopped at once, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Sorry, Granger. We have to go. It’s important.”

Hermione looked at Draco’s reflection in the mirror. He was wearing a tux and looking quite dapper himself. She was set to move into the Manor next weekend, but they were at her flat to get ready for the event. Her brow furrowed, but she quickly schooled her expression into something brighter. She couldn’t help but wonder why this Muggle affair was so important to him.

They arrived right on time, and Hermione was surprised by the number of attendees— all decked out for the event. Draco swept her inside and a waiter immediately offered them champagne. There were a number of prominent Londoners present, including the Mayor and someone she recognized from the Prime Minister’s staff. 

“This is actually very nice,” Hermione whispered after her second glass of champagne and several delicious amuse-bouches. “Thank you for bringing me.”

Draco smirked. “There’s still more to come, Granger.”

She wasn’t sure what that might be, as they had already enjoyed a reading from the works of John Keats, and a brief performance from a famous soprano and tenor starring in an opera that was currently in town. She opened her mouth to ask, but fell silent when a stiff-looking woman with cat eye glasses got up to the podium. 

“Thank you all for joining us tonight.” She rattled off a list of attendees, performers, and sponsors to thank. “And now, for the evening’s finale. We are proud to unveil the latest reading room at the British Library, which will be open to the public beginning Monday. I present to you the Hermione Jean Granger Reading Room!” The woman pulled on a little cord and the cloth that had been covering the plaque in front of the closed double doors fell off, revealing her name in gilded letters.

Hermione gasped and looked at Draco with wide eyes. He was beaming amidst the loud applause. “How did you—”

“Delia Figg is on the board of directors.”

“Figg?” Hermione was still shell-shocked, unable to believe what was happening.

“Arabella’s daughter, yes. She was all too happy to include your name in their selection process—and even happier with the sizable donation I made in your name.” He gave her a satisfied smirk, and she felt her heart flutter.

“Draco, you—I’m speechless.”

A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Will wonders never cease? Come on, let’s go inside.” He took her by the arm and followed the crowd of Muggles wandering into the newly opened room. There were various important texts on their own special shelves around the sides, and rows upon rows of sleek desks with lamps with which to read. A lot of chatter could be heard, most of them wondering who the room had been named after.

“This is amazing,” Hermione breathed, running her hands over one of the desks.

“It gets better.” Draco led her to the back of the room where a statue of Agnes Waterhouse—the first woman in England executed for witchcraft—stood. He looked around the room briefly before pulling his wand out of his jacket and waving it over the statue. It slid to the side, revealing an entrance. “After you,” he said, touching the small of her back again.

Hermione stepped inside and was overwhelmed by the sight before her. It was the very same room as the one they had just been standing in, only this one held magical texts on the walls and almost all her friends were there.

Harry and Ginny were sipping champagne, both looking lovely in their evening wear. Luna and her husband were present, in a set of complementary golden robes. Ron was even there, hanging around the back with Rose and Scorpius, who apparently had come home from Hogwarts just for this.

“Mum!” Rose hurried over to greet her, the dusty pink dress she wore fluttering as she moved.

“Rose! You look so stunning and grown up.” Hermione held onto her daughter as she looked around the rest of the room and took in the other witches and wizards present. 

Narcissa Malfoy smiled serenely from her seat at one of the reading desks. “Draco, why don’t you explain this room to Hermione and your guests?”

“Right.” Draco gave his mother a sheepish smile before turning back to her. “It’s the Hermione Jean Granger Reading Room. Only this one is for wizards  _ and  _ Muggles, especially those dealing with how to care for their magical children.”

Hermione swallowed as she took in the titles along the wall.  _ So You’re Child is a Witch/Wizard _ ,  _ What to Expect When You’re Raising a Magical Child _ ,  _ The Wizarding World and You _ ,  _ The Muggle’s Guide to Wizarding Schools _ . Her eyes started to well up. “You did all this… for me?”

Rose stepped back as Draco moved closer to Hermione. “I would do so much more for you, Hermione. But this is also for all the amazing Muggleborn witches and wizards like you who are going to grow up and change the world.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, feeling the tears fall before throwing her arms around him. She tried to regain her composure as he held her tightly, not wanting her makeup to smear—or to ugly sob in front of all her friends. When she felt ready, she lifted her head back up to look into his eyes.

Draco loved this woman with his whole heart. He grazed his thumbs under her eyes to wipe away the tears and whispered a quick glamour charm for the red in them. “You’re welcome, my love. I have one more thing I want to say, if that’s alright.”

Hermione nodded and extricated herself from his arms, stepping back slightly. Everyone in the room was watching them. Then to her complete amazement, she watched Draco get down on one knee. He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket and opened it, revealing a beautiful ring—a giant diamond surrounded by four small emeralds cut to look like leaves and encased in a delicate white gold filigree. Her heart was pounding in her ears. “Draco—”

“I love you, Hermione Granger. And by some complete miracle I still don’t understand, you gave me a second chance when I didn’t deserve it. Tonight is only the start of a lifetime of making it up to you. I want to make you as sublimely happy as you’ve made me.” He paused, a glimmer of moisture in his grey eyes. “Will you marry me?”

Hermione was crying again, inelegant tears running down her cheeks. She was overcome by all the wizard in front of her had done tonight. The faces of her friends around the room all watched with smiles, Ginny wiping away a tear of her own. “Yes, Draco. Of course I’ll marry you.”

Applause broke out around the room. He stood and swooped her into his arms, kissing her like he didn’t care that everyone they knew was watching. When he pulled back, he slipped the ring onto her finger and they both laughed, brushing their lips together again. 

Rose hugged her mother as soon as they had broken apart. “I’m so happy for you, Mum. You deserve this—all of it.”

“Congratulations, you two.” Harry came over and slapped Draco on the back before giving Hermione a hug. “Let me know if he upsets you in any way. I can make him disappear,” he mock whispered to her.

“I heard that, Potter,” Draco warned with a smirk on his face.

“I know you have a lot of planning to do, but I'm the matron of honor, right?” Ginny quipped as she gathered Hermione in a fierce embrace. 

Ron was on his way over—probably to offer his well wishes, though he looked rather awkward—when he was intercepted by a pretty blonde witch in lavender formal robes. “Are you Ron Weasley?”

Hermione watched as the woman introduced herself as Arianna Figg and proclaimed to be a loyal patron of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, since her son was a huge fan of their products. 

She was temporarily distracted by the appearance of Scorpius, a glowing Rose at his elbow. After Hermione released him from a hug and let him turn to congratulate his father, her eyes fell on her ex-husband again. She couldn’t help but smile as Arianna gave Ron a dazzling smile and began brazenly flirting with him. 

“Looks like Weasley’s got his hands full, eh?” Draco wrapped his arms around her from behind. 

“Seems that way.” Hermione chuckled. She hoped Ron would find the kind of happiness she had found with Draco. 

They walked around the room, taking it in as they sipped on champagne from the house elf waiter, who was outfitted in his own little tux. The plaque on the wizarding side was glittering Hermione’s name in alternating crimson and gold. 

“About this plaque—” Draco began, scratching his chin. “They’re going to have to alter it once we get married.”

Hermione stopped, placing her free hand on her hip and staring at him. “If you think I’m changing my name—”

Draco grinned before bursting into laughter. “Relax, Granger. I’m only joking. Besides, what would I call you if you changed your name?”

She rolled her eyes. “You are insufferable, Draco Malfoy.”

“Mmm. And that’s why you love me.” He leaned down to kiss her. 

She broke the kiss, feeling breathless, like he always made her feel. “One of many reasons.” She pressed her mouth to his again, letting her hands drift down to grab his tight arse. Merlin, he was so sexy. 

His eyes clouded over with lust and the promise of things to come as he stared at her. Looking silver in this light, they contained multitudes. Love. Joy. Triumph. A possessiveness that made her shiver. Her eyes fell to his lips again. She felt it, too. 

His voice was low and husky as he said, “Let’s get you home. I believe I promised to get you out of this dress, and our guests are otherwise occupied.”

Hermione looked around the room at all her friends and family happily participating in the festivities, and gave him a conspiratorial grin. “Sounds like a plan.”

 

**Fin.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [tumblr](https://monsterleadmehome.tumblr.com)/[twitter](https://twitter.com/monsterleadme)!

**Author's Note:**

> I have made a playlist for this fic as well! Find it on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/vgh9a0am7jpmaeatolhx4dogf/playlist/3RvNdKqeGjA63aUXlrnwxy?si=JjOi6ouIQJamUHOh9rR1kA).
> 
> I am a few chapters ahead in writing this, so I am *hoping* to maintain weekly updates. I'll make a note if that changes for any reason.


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